Sins of the Unworthy
by dustlandfairytale23
Summary: After fleeing Cyrodiil, a young Nord girl thought she would find a normal life in Skyrim. But when she hears whispers of a boy attempting to perform the Black Sacrament, nothing goes according to plan. As both her own demons and the imminent destruction of Tamriel loom before her, she must team up with a ragtag band of assassins, a dashing thief, and a pair of eccentric Khajiit.
1. Chapter 1: The Stowaway

A/N: This is my first time publishing my work! Any feedback is welcome.

Some overall content notices for the story include: mentions of abuse, PTSD, violence, some sexual content. More specific notices will be given at the beginning of applicable chapters.

Enjoy!

* * *

On the 17th of Last Seed, 4E201, two wagons arrived in the sleepy border town of Helgen. One carried a merchant's inventory, a particularly ornery goat, and a stowaway. The other carried prisoners.

The stowaway slithered out of her hiding place beneath a heavy rug the second the merchant's wagon rolled to a stop. The goat had been aware of her presence the entire trip, and had spent the last two days pawing at her and bleating insufferably. Between that and the extremely uncomfortable position she had been squeezed into, she couldn't be happier to have two feet on the ground again.

She emerged just in time to watch the wagon carrying the prisoners come to a halt a few hundred yards down the road, next to the keep. Curiosity piqued, she wandered closer to watch as a unit of Imperial soldiers yanked the prisoners off the cart, and one by one lined them up before a small chopping block.

A state-sponsored execution. What a boring way to die.

Most of the prisoners wore blue uniforms in contrast to the Imperials' red. These had to be the infamous Stormcloak rebels she had heard so much about. Mingled among them was an important-looking man, dressed in finery yet gagged roughly with a piece of cloth, and a ragged-looking man in beggar's clothes.

Then, the one who looked jarringly out of place. A muscled Redguard in basic iron armor, with a deep scar running under his left eye. Even the Legionnaire recording names seemed confused by his presence.

"Who…are you?" He asked.

"Azzam." The Redguard stated plainly in a deep, booming voice.

The Legionnaire turned to his superior. ""No one by that name on the books."

The Legate shook her head. "Never mind the book. He goes to the block."

The Legionnaire gave him a sad look as he was marched forward. "I'm sorry. We'll see to it that your remains are returned to Hammerfell."

He remained strong and silent as he was led forward and roughly shoved to his knees. The stowaway briefly wondered what his story was. Was he a criminal? Or was he simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Whoever he was, this Azzam was either the luckiest man in the world or had some powerful forces on his side. For the exact moment the executioner swung his axe high into the air, a terrible monster descended atop the keep.

Its landing shook the ground enough to send everyone in the vicinity sprawling. The stowaway staggered to her knees just in time to watch the monster spread wide its enormous black wings and let loose a cascade of fire from its maw, killing a handful of Imperial soldiers instantly. She remained frozen for a moment, paralyzed by sheer terror and disbelief. All she could do was gaze in horror at a creature infinitely more terrifying than the worst of her nightmares.

Not just any creature - this had to be a dragon.

The sky turned an impossible shade of red and black, and it was as if fire was raining down from the sky. It was only when a fireball landed dangerously close to her, and she felt a pair of hands hauling her to her feet, that some sense snapped back into her.

"Come on, darling. You've got to move!"

A young imperial soldier grabbed her hand tightly and took off running. She kept up with him easily as they both dodged the flames and the flying rubble. At the opposite end of the village, he stopped her against the town wall.

"Stay right here. I've got to get the other villagers out of harm's way."

"Wait, you can't just leave me here!" She yelled, but the soldier was already sprinting in the other direction.

He was an idiot to leave her there, and there was no way in Oblivion that she was going to stand around waiting to be burnt to a crisp. She took off running towards the gate, only to find it completely obstructed by fallen rubble. The path to the only other gate was blocked by the dragon itself. Panic began to rise in her as she realized she was quickly running out of options.

Spotting a Stormcloak soldier huddled close to the keep, she sprinted madly towards him.

"I'm no hero, girl. I'm trying to escape, not mount a rescue mission."

"I can keep up, I swear it."

"Fine. But the second you fall behind, you're left behind."

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!"

The Legionnaire who had left her stranded by the wall appeared before him, this time with the Redguard, Azzam, close on his heels.

"We're escaping, Hadvar," One of the other Stormcloaks said. "There's no stopping us this time.

"I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Ralof grabbed the stowaway's hand. "Come on, into the keep!" He dragged her through the door as Azzam followed Hadvar in the other direction.

Inside lay the broken bodies of several Stormcloaks. Ralof grimaced. "Guess we're the only ones that made it."

"I've seen a lot of things," The stowaway said. "But that…that monster…"

"There's no denying it. That was a dragon. The harbinger of the end times." Ralof looked her up and down. "Leather armor. You fight, girl?"

She gestured to the dagger sheathed at her hip. "I get by with this. But it'd be best if I could find a bow somewhere in here."

Ralof found a shabby but functional one on a rack at the far end of the chamber, along with a handful of iron arrows. "Will this do?"

"It'll have to."

They didn't venture far into the keep before they encountered a small band of Imperial soldiers, who attacked on sight. Ralof drew his sword and charged, but the stowaway swung back and notched her first arrow to her bow. For the first time since she climbed aboard that wagon, she felt strong and centered. Before the Stormcloak had gotten in three swings, she had put down two of the three Legionnaires.

Ralof swiftly took care of the third, then turned to her in shock.

"I'm ashamed to admit, I thought I was going to be stuck protecting you," He said. "But it looks like I'm the one that could use your help."

She gave him a steely look as she returned the bow to rest at her back.

"I'm far more capable than I look."

"You got a name?"

"Tabby."

"And who taught you to shoot like that, Tabby?"

"Are we swapping tales about our past exploits, or are we trying to make it out of here alive?"

Silence fell between them until they descended from the crumbling tower into a series of damp caves. Whether the caves had an outlet wasn't clear, but the fact that the din of Helgen's destruction was growing fainter and fainter had to be a good sign.

"Why come to Skyrim now?" Ralof asked as they waded through an underground stream. "With the war going on, it's not exactly the best time to migrate."

It was really none of his business. But since they had narrowly escaped death together, why not tell him? "I was meant to come here. Why, I'm not sure yet. But something strong was pulling me to Skyrim. And so I had to go."

"You're telling me that you crossed into Skyrim on a feeling."

"It was stronger than a feeling. But in essence, yes."

"Have you got family here?"

"I doubt it."

"Any friends? Got any work lined up?"

"No."

"What will you do, then?"

Tabby laughed humorlessly. "It's not like I had anything back in Cyrodiil, either. I've been on my own for awhile now. I'll be just fine."

After seemingly countless hours of walking, they found the mouth of the cave. The pair emerged into a wilderness so beautiful that tears sprung to Tabby's eyes.

It was a perfectly clear day, with a gentle but icy breeze whispering across her cheeks. The pine trees were a green she had never seen before; the river was so clean it sparkled. In the distance the mountains rose solemnly towards the heavens, standing as silent guardians. It was all beautiful, yes. But it was more.

It wasn't the feeling that had drawn Tabby to the province in the first place. It was something new entirely igniting inside her as she gazed upon the purity of Skyrim for the first time. It was a deep pride in her Nordic roots. It was the comfort of home, a comfort that she had never felt before. It was the knowledge that she was standing on the same ground her ancestors had walked on for generations past.

"You alright, Tabby?"

"I was born here," She murmured, more to herself than to Ralof. "I never knew."

"How do you know now?"

"I just do. This all feels right. It feels like home."

"Another one of your feelings," Ralof joked. "You're a bit of an odd one, but at least you're damn good with that bow."

A terrible noise interrupted them. Tabby and Ralof's heads both jerked upward just in time to see the dragon flying high overhead.

"Headed north," Ralof commented. "That's not good. Not good at all."

"What's north?"

"Whiterun. One of the most important cities in Skyrim." He gave Tabby a quizzical look. "Where did you say you where going, again?"

"I didn't. Because I don't know."

"Riverwood is just a short walk away from here. You should come with me. I've got an aunt and uncle there; they'll help you get on your feet."

There was really no excuse for Tabby not to accompany Ralof. She had nowhere else to go, and she was running critically low on supplies. So she agreed, and together they embarked on the short but breathtaking walk to Riverwood.

The town was just as picturesque as the surrounding countryside, but it was a bit sleepy for Tabby's tastes. She could tell it was the kind of place where nothing ever happened. But Ralof's aunt and uncle were generous enough, giving her food and a healing potion and a few more arrows. Their one condition, however, was that she continue on to Whiterun to inform the jarl of the dragon attack.

"You don't think the jarl of all people would be informed of this?" Tabby asked.

"You two may have very well been the only people to get out of Helgen alive," Ralof's aunt Gerdur said. "It's very likely word hasn't reached the jarl, given how recent this all is, and it's important that he know as soon as possible. Whiterun has good defenses, but it's not prepared for a dragon attack. Nobody is."

Tabby turned to Ralof. "You won't be joining me?"

"I should stay here, in case any of my sword-brothers made it out of there," He said. "Besides, I thought you said you could take care of yourself?"

"I can." Tabby stood, swinging her satchel over her back.

"This is goodbye then," Ralof said. He clasped her hand in an uncharacteristic sign of affection. "The Nine keep you."

Tabby stood on Gerdur's porch for a long moment before setting on the road to Whiterun. She had honestly thought that her chances of making it to Skyrim alive were slim, especially once a damned dragon landed on that keep in Helgen. Now that she had gotten this far, she honestly wasn't sure what to do next.

She was sixteen years old. Alone in a strange new land. She didn't know what kind of life lay ahead of her in Skyrim, but it had to be better than the sufferings she had endured in Cyrodiil. Trying not to worry about what would become of her just yet, she simply put one foot in front of the other, over and over again, on the road to warn the jarl.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sacrament

The tundras surrounding Whiterun were unlike anything Tabby had ever seen before. She could see for miles over the vast and unforgiving brush, even catching a glimpse of a giant warming itself by a massive bonfire in the distance. The gentle breeze of the forests transformed into a harsh gust, whistling over the flatlands. Yet, despite its harshness, Tabby still found it beautiful. This was her homeland. This was where she belonged.

The city itself might as well have been on a different planet than Chorrol or Anvil or even Bruma. If there was any Imperial influence at all, Tabby had yet to see it. Everything from the architecture to the way its citizens greeted each other was Nord through and through. Whiterun was bustling with activity; everywhere Tabby looked there was a new sight to take in. Merchants shouting at each other, children playing tag in the streets, a smith hard at work at her forge - she found it all terribly exciting.

Dragonsreach was an imposing keep, and Tabby felt as if she definitely did not belong there. The jarl himself was an affable enough man, and seemed to take the warning seriously. He even offered her a gold reward for the information, which she eagerly accepted. But then he asked her to retrieve some lost artifact from some haunted barrow.

"I'm not an adventurer," She said. "I barely even made it out of Helgen alive."

"But you did make it out. That tells me you're more than capable."

"If she won't do it, then I will." A familiar voice boomed from across the hall.

Tabby spun around, shocked to see Azzam standing at the door. He appeared to be completely unharmed, though the Imperial soldier he was with back at Helgen was nowhere to be found.

She turned back to the jarl, raising her eyebrows. "If you ask me, he seems a bit more cut out for the job."

"Suit yourself," Jarl Balgruuf said. "May the gods watch over you."

As Tabby turned to leave, she locked eyes with Azzam. Both stopped in their tracks, spending a long moment staring at each other. There was something…different about this man, but oddly enough it appeared he felt the same way about her. Uneasily, they parted ways without a word between them.

Tabby slipped out the front door and into the light of the setting sun. She was unsettled, to be sure. She had no words to describe what had just happened between her and Azzam, so she chalked up to having shared a traumatic experience even though she knew that wasn't it. At any rate, the sun was quickly dipping behind the horizon, and she had had more than enough action for one day. She made her way to the Bannered Mare for a well-deserved bowl of stew before bed.

The bard, Mikael, tried to sweet talk her, but an icy glare was more than enough to send him scurrying back to his corner. Alone at last, Tabby relished at the chance to enjoy her meal in peace, and think about her next move.

The smartest thing to do was lay low. Get a job as a tavern maid - perhaps right here in Whiterun, even - marry one of the young men, have a few children, and grow old and die like every other commoner in Skyrim. In truth, that kind of life didn't even sound that bad to her. She had been robbed of a normal life, and here was her chance to find one. And in doing so, hopefully find some kind of quiet, boring happiness.

All of that sounded well and good to her. Until she overheard two women speaking in hushed tones about a little boy who was holed up in a place called Windhelm, trying desperately to summon the Dark Brotherhood.

Tabby almost didn't believe her own ears. The Brotherhood had been all but destroyed in Cyrodiil during the war, and she had assumed the same was true in Skyrim. But here, right in front of her, was a rumor that they were alive and well.

This new information complicated her plans considerably. She knew the safest route was to blend in with the rabble. Besides, then she could live like her ancestors did - like a true Nord.

But she would need to get a job in order to feed herself. And killing was her only skill.

Though she liked the idea of a quaint life as a menial laborer, she knew in reality she would likely get very bored, very quickly. At any rate, it couldn't hurt to at least see if this rumor checked out.

She slept like the dead that night, even though the bed was lumpy and the patrons were making merry until the wee hours of the morning. It pained her to get back into a wagon after the particularly unpleasant ride to Helgen, but first thing after sunrise Tabby chartered a carriage to Windhelm.

It was upon arrival that she realized that not every locale in Skyrim was beautiful. Windhelm was wickedly cold, even for her Nord blood. Its buildings were grey, dirty, and crumbling - and so were the people. Dunmer and Nord men alike whistled and shouted lewd comments at her as she roamed the streets. While the denizens of Whiterun jovially greeted each other, those in Windhelm seemed to regard their fellow citizens with hatred and distrust. There were talks of a serial killer on the loose, and in the air loomed a general sense of misery. As far as Tabby was concerned, every hour spent in Windhelm was an hour too long.

Luckily, it was an easy affair to find young Aventus Aretino. When she walked in on him crying as he stabbed an effigy repeatedly, she truly felt bad for him. A boy as young as him must have been in a bad place to feel the need to call for the Dark Brotherhood.

Then things took a turn for the unusual. Aventus thought she was a Dark Brotherhood assassin, arriving to answer his plea. He begged her to take his contract - an old crone named Grelod who ran an orphanage in the town of Riften. Tabby wasn't sure if she should be encouraging the boy, and he wouldn't give her any information on the Brotherhood. But he promised her payment, and if she was going to be paid to kill someone she really couldn't complain.

The kill itself was so easy it was disappointing. The old woman went down with one stab to the back, and her orphans actually cheered as she died. She was so frail that Tabby barely even felt the life force drain out of her. But it didn't matter. She had gotten away with it, and Tabby was in and out of the orphanage and back on the road to Windhelm without even uttering a word.

In any event, the Aretino boy was grateful, and gave her an heirloom plate that could fetch a decent price at the market. She may have failed to find the Dark Brotherhood, but at least she could feed herself for the next few days.

The following afternoon Tabby roamed the market stalls, haggling with the merchants for a good price on the plate. She felt a tap on her shoulder and came face to face with a courier, who pressed a note into her hand.

"What's this?"

"I'm afraid I can't say, miss."

"Well, who did it come from?"

"I'm afraid I can't say that either."

Bewildered, she broke the seal and opened the parchment. Immediately, a lump formed in her throat. Tabby had found what she was looking for, but it would likely cost her life. For an eternity she stared numbly at the contents of the faded letter, the lump growing bigger with each passing second.

One large black handprint. Two small words beneath it.

We know.


	3. Chapter 3: The Homecoming

Tabby didn't sleep for two nights after receiving the letter. She knew that the second she let down her guard, her throat would be met with the sharp end of the Brotherhood's dagger. Eventually, however, she simply couldn't fight the exhaustion overcoming her. Resigned to her fate, she climbed into the last bed available at Candlehearth Hall. As she drifted away, her last thought was disgust towards herself. She had managed to cheat death at Blackwood, at Anvil, at Helgen, only to get herself killed here by her own stupidity.

So when she opened her eyes again to discover herself very much alive, Tabby was nothing short of amazed. However, it appeared that the reprieve might only be temporary. She was lying not in the inn but in a ruined shack. In the darkness she could make out the outlines of debris and furniture scattered across the floor. And then she noticed the woman, face obscured and covered head to toe in black and red armor, leering at her from atop a bookshelf.

The Brotherhood had almost certainly brought her here to torture her a little before they finally killed her. Tabby sat up and started the woman straight in the eyes, the only feature not covered by her cowl. She silently dared her to come down from her perch and end it. Instead, her kidnapper just laughed.

"My, aren't you the lively one! I think you'll do quite nicely."

Tabby remained silent, still not believing for a second that this woman wasn't going to kill her.

"You've got nothing to say for yourself? In case you haven't noticed, you're in a bit of trouble, my dear."

"I didn't mean to steal your contract. It all happened so fast."

"Ah, so you know why you're here. Smart girl," The woman said condescendingly. "Now, don't think I'm criticizing you. It was a good kill. You should be proud of your work. It wasn't your first time, was it?" Tabby shook her head. "I suspected as much. I'm pleased. But unfortunately, you and I have a small issue. For as you said, that little Aretino boy was looking for me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was a Dark Brotherhood contract. It was a kill that you stole. A kill you must repay."

Another silence hung between them, and Tabby was sure this was it for her. But then the woman gestured to the other end of the room. Tabby turned, noticing for the first time the three bound and hooded captives.

"Make your pick. Make your kill. I'm just here to watch. And admire."

So by the work of some divine force, she was to see yet another day. All she had to do was execute a Khajiit thug whom nobody would miss anyway, and she walked out of the shack a free woman. But in addition to her life, Tabby walked away with the assassin's blessing, and directions to the Dark Brotherhood's last active sanctuary.

She had found the Dark Brotherhood. She had survived the Dark Brotherhood. And now she was to join the Dark Brotherhood.

From the abandoned shack on the edge of the northern swamps, Tabby hiked all the way to the forests of southwestern Falkreath, where the Sanctuary was nestled just outside the town. Upon crossing into the Hold, the pungent scent of pine mixed with rain filled her nose. She knelt to the ground and rubbed the mix of dirt and pine needles between her fingers. She observed the swirling mix of grays that composed the Falkreath sky. There was something about the environment that seemed to envelop Tabby with open arms, like a mother hugging her child.

She crossed into the sleepy village. There was something in the air that gave it an ethereal quality, separate from the rest of this world. Perhaps because of the ancient graveyard that was the resting place for hundreds of warriors, or perhaps because the Dread Father presided over his children just a stone's throw from town. Whatever the reason, Falkreath was a town nestled between life and death. It was quiet, but it was there, heavy in the air, and it was a bit unsettling. But for Tabby, it was comforting.

At last she came to the outskirts of the gloomy town. It didn't take long to find the Black Door, its icon of Sithis leering ominously at her. She placed her hand on the door, and it whispered its ancient question. Tabby fell silent. Once she entered, there was no going back. She would devote her entire life to the art of murder, and she would never have the stable life she longed for as a child. And in a way, she would be going along with the life that had been planned out for her as a child, not forging her own path in the way she always wanted.

Yet death was her trade. It was the only thing she was good at. It was the only thing she enjoyed. Centering her life around it would not necessarily be a bad thing. And in the end, nobody was making the choice to join the Brotherhood but her. This was the path she chose with her own free will. And she could be proud of that. So Tabby placed both hands firmly on the Black Door, whispered, "Silence, my brother," and watched the door to her new life swing open.

It almost seemed as if Astrid had been waiting by the door for her this whole time. She leapt to her feet as soon as the Black Door opened, a huge grin spreading across her face.

"Welcome home, my sister," Astrid said, the kindness in her voice a stark contrast from her leering tone in the shack. "I knew that you would find your way to us. Now tell me, what do we call our newest family member?"

"Tabby," She replied, and Astrid laughed.

"Are you a lost kitten, or a deadly assassin? We'll call you Tabitha instead."

"My name isn't short for Tabitha. It's just Tabby."

Astrid sighed. "If you insist. Perhaps it will grow on me. Now come, it's time to meet your new family."

Tabby was somewhat bewildered to discover that, with the exception of Astrid, none of her new brethren were particularly thrilled to see her. They were a somewhat ragtag band - ranging from an intimidating but not particularly bright werewolf to a child vampire - and she would have thought that they would have welcomed some fresh blood in the Sanctuary.

"By Sithis, Astrid. I didn't know we were recruiting from the orphanages now." Festus Krex, a wrinkled and crotchety wizard, looked at her up and down, unimpressed. "How old are you, anyway?"

Tabby bristled. "Old enough."

"It's not personal," Astrid assured her as they surveyed Tabby's new home. "They just don't want to get attached until you prove yourself. In case you get yourself killed."

"More than that," A deep voice echoed across the main cavern. Tabby turned to lock eyes with a Redguard, wrapped in traditional garb. His face was stern, but she could just barely sense the tiredness, perhaps even sadness in his eyes. "Now we've got a new bumbling recruit to train. That takes time. And time is money." He drew an animal skin canteen from his right hip and took a long pull from it, looking at Tabby with disdain.

Bumbling? She would prove him wrong. With a scowl Tabby drew the splintered hunting bow from her hip. Astrid moved to stop her, but Tabby was faster. Before the Redguard even saw it coming, her arrow shot the canteen out of his hand and pinned it to the opposite wall, leaving a large burst of water in its wake.

The cavern fell silent, as the other assassins who had witnessed the event eyed the Redguard nervously. Wordlessly he descended the steps, closing the gap that lay between him and Tabby and Astrid.

"Nazir…" Astrid said warningly, but the Redguard just placed his hand on Tabby's shoulder.

"So. You've got skill," He said calmly. "We haven't had a talented archer around here for a long while. We could use someone like you." Tabby started to smile, but as she did so the hand lightly resting on her shoulder turned into a painful vice grip.

"But you're impulsive," Nazir continued, ignoring Tabby's grimace. "And impulse is what gets greenhorns like you killed. So don't think you're special, because you're not. Swallow that ego. Cool that temper. And learn how to think like a real assassin." He released her and stalked away.

The other assassins began to snicker, and she knew they were whispering about her. Astrid swept her away to continue her orientation, but Tabby was left somewhat disheartened. They weren't being outright cruel - she had expected to endure some kind of ostracism as the newest member - but neither was it the big happy family she was hoping for.

The last matter she and Astrid had to attend to was her equipment. Tabby had hobbled in sporting mismatched fur and leather armor, with a rusting iron dagger and a hunting bow that was beginning to fall apart. According to Astrid, a Dark Brotherhood assassin was the best in the business. And the best deserved only the best.

"I wouldn't let just anyone handle this bow," Astrid said, gently handing Tabby a beautiful Elven bow that in her previous life she could only have ever dreamed of holding. "But I can tell that you'll put it to get use. Now, go try on your armor," She thrusted a pile of red and black leather into Tabby's arms next, along with an Elven dagger to match the bow. "It's enchanted, you know. All kinds of helpful boons to a blossoming assassin."

The leather of the Shrouded Armor was worlds apart from the stiff and cumbersome stuff she had been wearing. It was buttery smooth, and clung to her body without hindering her movement. But the best part was the cowl. It obscured all of her face but her icy blue eyes - cold, cruel, the eyes of a killer - and as she gazed at herself in the mirror she was surprised at how dangerous she looked. It was as if the shroud cast a veil of malice over her. One thing was for sure - she would no longer be groped in the street and propositioned by drunkards.

"It suits you," Astrid smiled, running her hand down Tabby's arm and letting it linger at her waist. "I think you're going to make a fine addition to our family."

"The rest of the family doesn't seem to think so," Tabby mumbled through her cowl.

Astrid pushed back the cowl, running her hands through Tabby's hair. "They'll come around. Just wait. They'll see the potential in you that I do."

There was just one thing left to do. Tabby removed the cowl completely, letting her wavy black hair fall to the middle of her back. Her long hair would just get in the way. Besides, it reminded her too much of where she had come from. _He_ was the one who made her keep it long, after all. Drawing her new dagger, she chopped away at her locks until they came to rest at her shoulders. She braided back the smaller strands that fell into her face, and took a long look at herself in the mirror. She looked older now. More like a real assassin. In time, she hoped she could feel like one as well.

Tabby's encounter with Nazir had humbled her. For her first few weeks in the Brotherhood she kept her head way, way down. She hoped that completing a few contracts would force them to let their guard down and accept her as their sister. Nazir had given her three small contracts - to complete at her leisure, was what he told her. She left the Sanctuary immediately, determined to not come back until she had finished all of them. When she returned two weeks later with a token from all three kills, she thought she detected the ever slightest hint of surprise. Maybe even approval.

"Most of our new recruits are dead within the first two weeks," He said gruffly. "We were beginning to think the same had happened to you. But it looks like you live to see another round of contracts."

Just as Nazir reluctantly dropped a bag of gold into Tabby's outstretched hand, Astrid strolled into her room.

"Well done, sister!" She beamed, her voice infused with an unusual warmth. "I knew I was right to take a chance on you." Tabby just shrugged, struggling not to smile at her leader's praise.

Astrid squeezed her shoulder. "In light of your success, I have a special task for you. Kindly come to my room after supper so we may discuss it."

Nazir raised his eyebrows as Astrid swept out of the room. "I'd watch yourself, new meat. Astrid's up to something."

Tabby frowned. "She's been nothing but welcoming to me."

"Astrid is a fair and relatively kind leader. But she's rarely this…enthusiastic." Nazir shrugged. "I'm offering you some free advice. Do with it what you will."

That evening Tabby ignored Nazir's warning entirely, and gently pushed open the door to Astrid's room. She stood at her bookshelf, wearing only a short, thin robe.

"Mistress, my apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not interrupting anything, dear sister," Astrid cooed, her eyes running up and down Tabby's timid form. "In fact, I've been eagerly awaiting your visit."

"You said you had a task planned for me?"

"Indeed I do. My husband is away on a contract, and I'm a bit lonely tonight…" She laughed softly, registering the look of shock and confusion on Tabby's face. "Don't be a prude, Tabby. Loosen up that armor, and come here. You'll like it. I promise."

Tabby stayed frozen for a moment, split between her instinct to run and her desire to please the leader she already admired so greatly. But beneath that, there was something else. There was, perhaps just a hint of curiosity. And…maybe even desire?

Slowly she drew closer. Astrid grabbed her hips and spun her around, fiddling with the buckles on her armor while planting soft kisses on her neck.

"Have you been with a woman before?"

Tabby shook her head, and she could feel Astrid's smile against the back of her neck.

"But you have been with a man."

Again Tabby shook at her head, and Astrid gave her a bewildered look.

"I just assumed that a pretty young girl…" Again Astrid's words trailed away into a lecherous grin. "This will be a fun evening for me, then." With a strong tug, Astrid pulled Tabby's armor to the ground. She planted a firm kiss on her lips - Tabby's first, and every bit as dizzying as she had hoped - as she tugged Tabby's undershirt over her head. Before Tabby knew it she was being shoved onto the bed, and Astrid's tongue was in her mouth, and their bodies were writhing together, and there was a strange yet exquisite warmth building up in her belly.

Then, suddenly, Astrid stopped. Tabby's brow furrowed in confusion as Astrid rolled off of her, breathing heavily.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Astrid grinned. "No, darling, of course not," She said. "I just want to leave you something to look forward to. For next time."

Tabby awakened in a panic the next morning before remembering why she wasn't in her own bed. She then realized that she was still naked, and still very tangled up in another woman's body. She felt the other body stir and groan a bit, before the mess of blonde hair lifted and Astrid blinked blearily at her.

"Sleep well?" She said, her usual seductive voice turned gravelly by sleep. Tabby nodded, suddenly wishing very much that she was clothed.

"I'd like to do this again, provided you feel the same. But I want you to know this, Tabby. I am married to Arnbjorn, whom I love dearly. And he is the only one I love. This is purely for our…mutual enjoyment. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Astrid." Tabby croaked.

"Good," Astrid ran her hand affectionately through Tabby's hair. "Get dressed, my dear. It's another long day for us."

So Tabby hastily dressed and excused herself from Astrid's room, only turn around and find herself face to face with Festus.

"Ah, so you've received the great honor of becoming Astrid's new plaything?" He said with a thunderous laugh. "I hope you don't think you're special. You're just the latest in a long line of conquests."

"She made it quite clear that she wasn't in it for the romance," Tabby snapped.

"Fine, then. Don't listen to me. What do I know? I'm just an ugly old wizard, after all." He took a moment to look her up and down. "Though truth be told, I'm starting to question her tastes. Just look at you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, come now. Even you have to admit you're a sorry excuse for a Nord maiden. Far too skinny, for one. And black hair to match your soul. Have you seen the Nords of Whiterun? I've heard wonderful things about their women. Blonde, busty, and skilled with their…"

" _Goodbye_ , Festus," Tabby turned with disgust and made a beeline to her room, before another of her siblings got the chance to humiliate her further. The echoes of Festus's roaring laughter chased her the whole way.

As Tabby undressed once more to bathe herself, the events of the previous night replayed in her head. She had never had a romantic encounter with anyone before, and had never even thought herself attracted to women. The whole night she felt clueless and timid - two feelings she normally despised. Yet, in a strange way, she had enjoyed it immensely. Astrid had given her sensations she never could have dreamed of, and the forbidden nature of the tryst made it that much more exciting.

Yet her logical side nagged her of the countless reasons that she should not continue the affair. Astrid was clearly using Tabby for her own pleasure. And she was married to a possessive, jealous, homicidal werewolf. Moreover, Tabby suspected it would be difficult to keep any romantic feelings at bay if she continued this further. But the more she thought about Astrid's hands roaming her body, the more she wanted it to continue.

Arnbjorn wouldn't have to find out, not if they were discreet. And perhaps Tabby was okay with being manipulated, just in this particular situation. And if Astrid could learn to separate love from sex, perhaps Tabby could too.

And so it did continue. During the days, and while Arnbjorn was home, Astrid treated Tabby no differently than any of their siblings. Nazir and Festus seemed to keep quiet about what they knew of the relationship, as no one else showed any signs of suspicion. Most of the time, it was business as usual. But when Arnbjorn was away on a contract, Tabby knew she would be expected to report to Astrid's room after supper, so they could make love late into the night. Afterwards, Astrid would always lay Tabby's head on her chest so she could run her fingers through her hair until Tabby drifted into sleep. It was the one romantic gesture Tabby was ever offered. She tried very hard not to love Astrid, and she mostly succeeded. But when Astrid held her in her arms at night, or when she smiled her approval when Tabby completed another contract, she had to remind herself that all her mistress cared about was the physical intimacy. Astrid was not in love with her, and she was not in love with Astrid, her brilliant and courageous leader whom she respected more than anyone else. She simply was _not_.

But she couldn't let herself become distracted. The weeks rolled by, and still Tabby focused on keeping her mouth shut to avoid further embarrassment until she could prove herself once and for all. She took every contract Nazir threw at her, no matter how petty, in hopes that soon Astrid would trust her with one of their important jobs.

It wasn't as if she minded being worked hard. Though they were the odd jobs that no one else wanted, Tabby's contracts were the reason she got out of bed every morning. After all, she got paid to travel all over the province, from the noble city of Solitude to the icy wasteland of Winterhold. She got to hone her craft like she never had before, and she got to make her living by doing the one thing she loved most. The rush she got as a child, hunting deer in the Great Forest, was nothing compared to the thrill of stalking through a backstreet at night, waiting until her target moved into a shadow so she could plunge her blade into his spine, and later drinking mead at the local inn like nothing had ever happened.

And as her kills got cleaner, her aim sharper, her foolish arrogance slowly transformed into true confidence. She no longer roamed the province with uncertainty and a trigger-happiness. Instead, she felt a calm assurance in her abilities. She felt like a real assassin, and she felt more alive than she had in years.

As she nearly exhausted his list of jobs, and rumors came swirling from across the province of people turning up with their throats slashed to the bone or shot cleanly through the eye, Nazir slowly became the first of her siblings to warm up to her. With every contract completed, his greetings to her became a little less sarcastic, a little less impatient. Occasionally he joked around with her. Even more rarely, he would outright compliment her. But after she took down two powerful vampires masquerading as loggers, he gave her a speech that truly touched her.

"Strange as it may seem, I think you and I have a lot in common," He said. "We don't see the need to prattle on as Gabriella and Babette often do. We have a similar…gruff exterior. I can see in your eyes that you've lived through some hardship as I have," He paused to count out her bonus gold. "But most of all, I see the same raw talent in you as I had in my younger years. I haven't been so impressed with someone's skill since I met Astrid."

"Nazir…I don't know what to say," Tabby said softly.

"There's no need to say anything. Go rest up, Tabby. Rest with the knowledge that you've earned my respect, and my friendship."

From then on, Nazir seemed to have taken her firmly under his wing. He offered her advice, not just on her contracts but on how to deal with her siblings' drama and how to outgrow her rookie stage. He radiated pride when she succeeded, even if he didn't show it outright. But he also gave her a dose of discipline every now and again. He was quick to reprimand her if she said something cocky or foolish, and his sharp words cut just as much as any blade. And so alike were Tabby and Nazir that they were prone to clash on even the most inane issues, bickering like true blood relatives. The entire family could often hear the two screaming at each other about whether Tabby had fulfilled her bonus conditions, after which Tabby would glower at him from opposite ends of the dinner table. But when it came down to it, Tabby knew that Nazir cared about her. That in itself was so much more than any man in her life had ever come close to giving her.

The rest of the Sanctuary respected Nazir almost as much as they did Astrid, and so his high opinion of Tabby proved to be her entry into the family. Before she knew it, Babette was asking Tabby to collect ingredients with her, and Veezara was offering to teach her how to mediate in the traditional Argonian way. As she let herself open up to her fellow assassins, and as they let her into their circle, for the first time in her life Tabby felt accepted. Maybe even loved. She had never experienced a family's love before, but so far she thought that she liked it. They were a dysfunctional little family; any unit that contained a child vampire and an irritable old wizard would be. But when she was with them, she felt absolutely certain that she was home.

It seemed as if, for the first time, Tabby's life was going exactly the way she wanted it. She killed with artistry and ruthlessness, and afterwards returned home to a warm Sanctuary, a welcoming family, and an eager lover. She was able to feel both the quiet happiness of home and the wild exhilaration of navigating the world on her own, the warmth of a sister's embrace and the icy pleasure of sending a soul to the Void. She was surrounded constantly by death and violence, yet she lived in a veil of happiness that half a year earlier would have seemed completely unattainable.

Three months passed like they were mere days. On the Fourth of Evening Star, Tabby approached Astrid in her study.

"Did you need something, sweet sister?"

"I, ah, just…"

"Don't be shy, Tabby. What is it?"

"It's my naming day," Tabby blurted, turning bright red. "I'm not sure if we celebrate those things here, but…"

"But of course we do!" Astrid clapped her hands together. "Nazir prepares a special meal for every naming day."

True enough, Nazir prepared nothing short of a feast that night. "A traditional Alik'r supper," He said proudly, laying down course after course on the table. "So, Tabby. Now that you've become one of us, are we allowed to know how old you are?"

"Today I'm seventeen."

Nazir laughed. Festus croaked, "By the gods. I knew you were young, but I thought you were at least twenty. You're barely more than a child."

"I haven't been a child in a long time, trust me," Tabby said, and that shut him up. But on the other side of the table, she could see Astrid staring at her, mouth agape.

After dinner, she was quickly pulled aside. "You didn't tell me you were sixteen," Astrid accused.

"You didn't ask."

"For Sithis' sake, Tabby!"

"What's the issue? You're kicked out of the orphanages at sixteen. You can marry at sixteen. Yet you're telling me you can't join the Brotherhood at sixteen?"

"That is not the problem." Astrid said. Then she hesitated. "You're technically an adult. But I still feel like I'm robbing the cradle."

Tabby laughed before she could stop herself. Astrid glared at her.

"It's not funny!"

"It's a little funny. Of all the things to worry about? We're probably all going to die young, Astrid. Why not do what we want while we're here?" She leaned in and kissed Astrid, a risky move given that Arnbjorn was still at the dinner table in the next room. And that was the end of it.

Three months passed like they were mere days. For three months, her new life was nothing short of a dream. Then a mad jester and a coffin arrived at the Sanctuary, and nothing was ever the same.


	4. Chapter 4: The Mother

Tabby believed in exactly two things to guide her. One was Astrid's leadership, and the other was the beauty and inevitability of death. She had very little patience for religious fervor of any sort, which was why she had exactly zero qualms about obeying Astrid's order to climb inside the Night Mother's coffin in order to spy on Cicero.

Cicero. Nothing but an insane, obnoxious fool. He was going to ruin everything she cherished about the Brotherhood if his zealotry was allowed to get out of hand. The Night Mother may have once been an important icon of the Brotherhood, but those days had long past. Tabby was more than willing to defile an old woman's coffin if it meant preserving Astrid's authority - and perhaps the survival of her Sanctuary.

But the very core of her convictions was shattered when she heard the voice. It was the comfort of a mother's embrace and the terror of one's impending death combined into one exquisite sound. And it converted her instantly. As the corpse whose bones she pressed against whispered its sweet, sinister gospel into her ear, tears welled up in Tabby's eyes.

This was what she was missing all this time. Tabby knew she was destined to serve the source of the beautiful voice until the day she died. Tabby adored the Night Mother. She lived for the Night Mother. She killed for the Night Mother.

She was vaguely aware of shouting going on outside the coffin, but it wasn't until the door was roughly pried open and she found herself staring into Cicero's rage-filled eyes that she fully came to her senses. His blade flew to her throat, and she barely had enough breath to croak the Night Mother's words.

 _Darkness rises when silence dies._

They were words that proved to save her life: Cicero lowered his dagger and danced a jig around the room.

"She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!"

"By Sithis, this ends now!" Astrid shoved open the door, glaring fiercely at Cicero. The residual euphoria from hearing the Night Mother's voice drained away, as Tabby began to grasp the gravity of her situation. For here stood before her both Astrid and Cicero, their faces twisted in rage as they looked from Tabby to the coffin and back to each other. Here was the mistress she had sworn to obey unquestioningly, whose leadership she would follow to the grave and whose kisses lulled her to sleep at night. Standing next to her was Cicero, and, by extension, the Night Mother. The spark that had just lit up her entire world. The beautiful and terrible Mother whom she was desperate to serve. Could she serve two mistresses?

Unfortunately, this was a philosophical debate she would have to grapple with another time. Astrid wanted answers, and so Tabby dutifully told her everything that transpired between her, Cicero and the Night Mother.

"So let me get this straight. The Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener... just spoke. Right now. To you?" The incredulity in Astrid's voice stung more than a little, but Tabby swallowed her pride and nodded emphatically.

"That's right, mistress. She told me to go to Volunruud, to speak with a man named Amaund Motierre. Do you want me to meet him, Astrid?"

"Hmm?" For a moment Astrid, for the first time in the months Tabby had known her, seemed truly overwhelmed. Then she glared fiercely again, her resolve returning stronger than ever.

"No. No! Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that? The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed!"

"Astrid…mistress. You know I would never disrespect you!" Tabby reached for Astrid's arm in distress, but she backed away.

"I…I need some time to think about all this. Go do some work for Nazir."

"But he's out of jobs…"

"Do you think I care? Make yourself useful somehow. And as for you," Astrid said, pointing an accusatory finger at Cicero. "You are to keep this…incident to yourself. I will not have my Sanctuary devolve into hysterics. Are we clear?"

"Most clear, Miss Astrid!" Cicero clapped his hands and jumped up and down as a child would. "Most clear indeed!"

"Good. I'll send for you later, Tabby." Without another word, Astrid turned and swept angrily from the room.

Tabby was left dumbstruck, but as soon as Astrid was gone Cicero loudly cheered and resumed his jig. "You are the Listener! You are the Listener! I have served Mother well, I have!"

She turned to face the mad jester. "Why on Nirn did she choose me? I didn't ask for this. Besides, I'm the newest one here. I'm at the bottom of the heap."

"Now, now, Listener," Cicero clucked disapprovingly. "We don't question our Mother. We are grateful for every bit of guidance she gives us, and we follow it without question. Even when she guides us to a Listener so young…and so doggedly loyal to such a thickheaded leader."

"You watch your tongue," Tabby said sharply. "Astrid is the reason the Brotherhood is still alive."

"Our blessed Mother and our Dread Father are the reasons the Brotherhood is still alive," Cicero shot back. "My my, but you have a lot to learn, Listener. And you'd best learn quickly! The Night Mother is part of you now! You get to hear voices inside your head! The rest of us should be so lucky!"

"This is an awfully large burden," Tabby said. "A burden I want nothing more than to take on, but…out of everyone in the Sanctuary, I thought I would have been the last one to be chosen."

"Our Mother works in mysterious ways," Cicero commiserated. "Mysterious, dreadful, exquisite ways. Let me give you one piece of advice before you depart, Listener: remember where your true loyalties lie. That's all helpful Cicero can say for now."

Even more confused than before, all Tabby could do was wait to be beckoned by Astrid. Throughout the evening her siblings cast confused looks at her, Astrid and Cicero - they knew something was afoot, but all three of them remained silent. The next morning, when Tabby approached Nazir for work, he was nothing short of baffled.

"What does she mean, 'make yourself busy?'" He huffed. "I've got nothing left for you!"

"She's angry at me," Tabby replied. "I'm afraid I can't tell you why, but this is her way of punishing me."

So for the next two weeks Tabby was relegated to sniper duty. She accompanied the others on their contracts so she could spend all day camped out on a rooftop, ready to provide assistance if the contract went sour. It was painfully tedious - only once did she have to fire her bow, when the rash and decidedly un-stealthy Arnbjorn bashed in a target's head in broad daylight and needed her to pick off some of the town guard. Even that failed to excite her - it was like shooting fish in a barrel. And when all was said and done, Arnbjorn brushed her off without so much as a thank you.

"Could have handled it myself," He said gruffly.

Eventually, the summons from her mistress came. Tabby timidly pushed open the door to Astrid's room, and her fears were confirmed - Astrid was still furious.

"Out of all the people in this Sanctuary, I never thought that you…"

"That what? What have I done, Astrid?"

Her mistress's eyes softened a bit, and she moved a bit closer. "Nothing, dear. You've done nothing. You didn't ask for any of this. I know that. We'll just have to figure out how to move forward from here," Astrid turned and busied herself with straightening the books on her shelf. "The Night Mother may have returned, and she may have chosen you as her Listener. But that changes nothing."

"Of course I know that. I don't want any power. I don't want to be in charge. I only want to follow you."

That earned a small smile from Astrid. "Well, I'm still not entirely sure about all that's happened. But if the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we'd be mad to ignore it. And I think we'd both agree, Cicero's brought quite enough madness to this Sanctuary. So go to Volunruud. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And let's see where all this leads. What could it hurt?"

So Tabby awakened early the next morning and made preparations to depart for the old Nordic crypt. As she packed her satchel, Nazir appeared in the doorway.

"Astrid told me quite the astounding thing this morning."

"I have a pretty good guess of what that might be."

Nazir moved to sit on her bed, a rare look of true concern on his face. "Normally, I'd think you've gone mad like that damned jester. But for some reason, I believe you."

"It was real, Nazir. I don't know how I know, but I do. It was the Night Mother's voice."

"I said I believe you. But I still worry for you. The Night Mother's arrival on its own brought tension to the Sanctuary. And now this…" Nazir paused, seeming to look for the right words. "Watch out for yourself, Tabby. I sense a power struggle on the horizon, and with your new title I doubt you'll be able to stay out of it. And getting caught up in Brotherhood politics can have…unpleasant ramifications."

Tabby left the Sanctuary that day already feeling exhausted. She was beyond grateful that the Night Mother had chosen her, but the implications of her new status - and the worry written all over Nazir's face - loomed large and ominous in front of her. She seemed to be caught between Astrid's vision of the Dark Brotherhood and Cicero's, and it nauseated her to think what would happen if - or perhaps when - those visions came to clash with one another. What would happen to the Brotherhood, what would happen to the Night Mother, and, perhaps most importantly, what would happen to her.


	5. Chapter 5: The Wedding

Balimund was an exceptionally uncomplicated man. He liked his work, he liked his adopted son, Asbjorn, and he liked a bottle of mead in the evenings. He was forty-three, but had never been married. He had never fallen in love, and simply didn't see the point in wasting the rest of his life on a woman he did love. He took pride in his craftsmanship, and he was perfectly content being known as the quiet, amicable, work-obsessed blacksmith. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, his life became exceedingly more complicated when someone wandered by his forge to request a dagger repair. This someone wore the strangest armor - red and black leather with a cowl that covered all but the eyes, and glowing ever so slightly with enchantments. The armor clung snugly to a toned but decidedly feminine body, soft curves complemented by the ripple of muscles. Then there were the eyes that peered out at him from the cowl. They were the most striking blue he'd ever seen - an icy glow as the great glaciers to the north - but they were also fierce, almost angry as they bored into him. This person - a woman by all looks of it - strangely attracted him, but she also looked extremely dangerous. Not exactly like the kind of company a respectable artisan wanted to keep. The other townsfolk were visibly uncomfortable by her presence, giving her a wide berth as she moved about the town.

But then there was her voice. Even muffled by the cowl, he could still tell that she sounded young. Not necessarily innocent - there was a tinge of heaviness in her voice that told him she had seen some things - but young. And polite. Nothing that suggested she was interested in robbing or killing him.

Balimund seriously considered telling her to take her repair elsewhere, but he was, after all, the only blacksmith in Riften. Besides, business was business. So he told her that he could repair her dagger cheaply and quickly, and that she could either return in an hour or stay at the forge while he worked. To his great surprise, she chose to stay.

His newest customer carried a bow along with her dagger, and that combined with her choice of armor and the intense aura around her made it clear to him that she wasn't another run of the mill adventurer. When he inquired about her occupation, she said that she was a scout for a group of mercenaries. It was her job, she said, to sneak into tight spaces in order to assess any potential threats. That could have easily been a lie - it was just as likely that she was an assassin or a thief or any other number of undesirable things - but Balimund chose to believe her. She was a quiet, agreeable woman, and if she was involved in something more sinister he didn't want to know.

She wanted to know about his life then, and Balimund didn't know what to say. He told her that he was a blacksmith, and a damn good one at that. He told her that he had lived in Riften all his life, and that it had been horrible and wonderful to him all at once. He told her that he was not an interesting person, not like she was, and then she told him that he sounded like a good man and that was more than interesting enough for her.

That intrigued him. He wondered if she hadn't come across many good men in her life. Damn shame, that was. He also wondered if she kept her face covered because she was disfigured, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask.

The woman overpaid him for the repair job and insisted that he keep the extra money as gratitude for a good conversation. Balimund was perplexed; he was not known for his way with words, but he thanked her all the same. She told him she wanted very much to visit again soon. But as she began to walk away, Balimund realized he never learned her name. So he yelled an inquiry at her, and she yelled her answer back.

Tabby. What a sweet name for such a frightening woman. Yet beneath the armor and the piercing gaze, Balimund thought he saw a truly kind person. He was puzzled by her complexity, and he could not keep her out of his mind for days. Asbjorn thought he had gone mad, for his son and apprentice had not approved of the scout and had wanted her gone as soon as he caught a look at her. Now he was dumbfounded as to why Balimund had taken such a fascination with her.

True to her word, Tabby resurfaced in Riften a few weeks later. This time she didn't need any repairs; she said she was in Riften on an errand for her boss and simply wanted to talk. She admired him as he worked his forge, and when he told her its power source she pledged to find him fire salts to keep the flames alive. Now Balimund was even more confused than before. She had just offered him a favor, and kept him company for over two hours, yet when she walked down the streets of Riften people pointed and stared. Many cowered away from her, and some even hid. Who was the person under that cowl? Was she a battle-hardened scout for a deadly group of mercenaries, or, as Balimund believed, was she as sweet as the cat for which she was named?

She returned a third time with the promised fire salts, and from then on she visited fairly regularly for over two months. Sometimes she did need a repair or to restock her arrows, but many times she just wanted to sit beside him as he worked. With every visit she opened up to him a little bit more, telling him a tidbit about her job or her childhood. In turn, he became less and less afraid of her, and saw her more and more as an old friend. They were an odd pair, the middle aged blacksmith and the lovely but lethal young woman, and they began to attract gossip from the other townsfolk. But Balimund didn't mind. All he cared about was his work, his son, and now his fascinating new friend.

Asbjorn accused him of being infatuated with Tabby, but the reality was that she was probably about his son's age, if not younger. And Balimund - unlike that unscrupulous fisherman, Bolli - was a gentleman. He didn't have many friends, nor much excitement in his life. And this young woman certainly brought him both.

Was he being a fool? Was it dangerous to befriend her? Perhaps, especially if his suspicion that she wasn't who she said she was proved true. Only time would tell.

* * *

What was it about him?

Tabby mulled this over as she navigated the crowds of Solitude, frowning as she nearly tripped over her long, flowing red dress. Here she was, about to pull off a contract that would set the Brotherhood on a path to its former glory, and all she could think about was a sooty blacksmith on the other end of the province. She desperately needed to get in the killing mindset, to shut down all unnecessary distractions and let the bloodlust flow. But for once, she just couldn't seem to focus on sowing death and destruction.

Though she kept their friendship a secret from everyone in the Sanctuary, Tabby was quite fond of the blacksmith. He was sweet to her, and didn't expect anything from her in return. He made her feel normal in the midst of a life that was anything but. She could tell he was a little scared of her at first - most ordinary folk were - but since they had moved past that Tabby appreciated having someone who would entertain her fantasies of normalcy, at least for a few hours. Perhaps most refreshing, he was neither deadly serious, like Arnbjorn or Tabby herself, nor taken with a morbid sense of humor like Festus or Babette. Balimund was simply a good person, and those were plenty hard to come by as far as Tabby was concerned.

The mood was light and cheery in the temple courtyard, and with her formal attire Tabby had no trouble gaining admission. She ignored the bride and groom, allowing them their last few moments of revelry, and slipped through a door on the northwest wall. It placed her on a ledge opposite the balcony where the bride was to give her address to the crowd, just at the perfect angle to pick her off as she spoke. Tabby silently thanked Gabriella for scouting out this spot for her. Her other siblings' advice had ranged from dropping a statue on her head to simply walking up to her and stabbing her in the heart, but Gabriella seemed to understand that this was where Tabby's skills could truly shine. One clean shot was all it took, and Vittoria Vici would be sent to the Void before anyone had time to register what had happened.

She ripped the cheap dress open by the seams and let it fall to the ground, clad in full armor underneath it. She pulled her cowl out of her pocket and pulled it over her face, instantly feeling her aim become clearer and her fingers steadier. Dropping to one knee so as to be obscured by the ledge, she set up the shot and waited for just the right moment.

Vici had made her way to the opposing balcony from Tabby to address the crowd - here was her chance. Tabby almost felt bad for her - this woman was dying solely because of her misfortune to be related to the Emperor, and on the happiest day of her life, no less. But such was the nature of death - it wasn't always fair. Tabby drew her bow, feeling its energy in her fingertips and knowing she had a perfect shot. A sick excitement quivered through her as she let the arrow slip from between her fingers.

The arrow flew strong and true. Tabby, however, found herself being slammed against the lip of the balcony. Her bow slipped out of her fingers and over the edge, into the thick of the now panicking crowd. Rough hands pinned her down, her limbs flailing in vain against the much stronger Solitude guards.

"Do we kill her now?" One guard asked, drawing his sword and holding it inches from her face.

"No," One of his colleagues replied. "The bitch deserves a public execution of her own."

"I have a better idea," Another said. "Let's throw her to the crowd. I'd wager they'll stone her themselves if they don't trample her first."

So the guard with the sword drove his hilt into Tabby's chest, knocking the wind out of her enough to keep her immobile as his two friends tossed her over the edge. She felt her nose crack as she landed face first, and she was gasping for the smallest breaths, but she was alive.

Sithis seemed to be smiling on her that day, for she landed practically at Veezara's feet. The Argonian dropped to his knees, and Tabby saw that he was clutching her cracked but otherwise functional bow.

"I knew something was wrong when I saw the bow go over the side," He said. "What happened?"

"The guard…" Tabby croaked, barely able to push the words out of her mouth.

"Never mind. Let's get you out of here alive first." With great difficulty Veezara pulled Tabby to her feet and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Her entire body throbbed in pain from her fall, and blood was now pouring from her nose and soaking her cowl.

"I'm in bad shape, Veezara."

"You're alive and you're walking. You should count yourself lucky," He said as they dipped beneath a staircase to avoid the town guard. "Babette will fix you right up as soon as we get back."

In the chaos following the assassination, it was relatively easy for the pair to take the back alleys and escape the city walls. Veezara had to heavily bribe the local carriage driver, who picked up on the fact that they were two highly suspicious characters trying to leave the city after a murder had taken place. But soon enough Tabby was sprawled on the floor of the carriage, moaning softly with every bump they hit on their way back to Falkreath.

Babette and Gabriella laid her out on her bed before setting to work finding the right healing potions and bandages. The rest of the Sanctuary gathered in the doorways to watch the spectacle.

"You're lucky you've proved to be more than just a pretty face. If that's all you were good for, you'd be out on the street," Festus said with a chuckle, earning a glare from Astrid.

"Is it really that bad?" Tabby groaned.

"Two black eyes. A broken nose. Split lip," Gabriella said as she wiped the blood from Tabby's face. "You do look something awful, but it's nothing that won't heal in a month or so."

"Why is everybody making such a fuss?" Nazir appeared in the doorway now. "She has a few bumps and scratches. People have come back from contracts with their limbs half torn off, for Sithis' sake."

Despite Nazir's dismissal, it took over a week of recovery before Tabby was ready to return to the field. In addition to her blemished face, she had suffered several bruised ribs and a broken wrist, ailments that required multiple doses of even the strongest healing potions. As she transitioned from laying in bed all day to slowly moving about the cave, Tabby became increasingly concerned at the state of her Sanctuary. The air was thick with the barely concealed hostility between Astrid and Cicero. Family dinners, once full of boastful stories and lighthearted jabs, were now taken in uneasy silence. Unless, of course, Cicero was using the opportunity to preach the Night Mother's gospel and criticize his brethren's lack of faith.

Everyone was unhappy. The assassins were resentful of Cicero, fearful of Astrid, and unsure how to reconcile Tabby's presence in the middle of it all. Festus was snappier than ever, Arnbjorn pounded his steel with a special ferocity, and Veezara actually hid when he heard Cicero rounding a corner. Nobody knew where their allegiances should lie, in fear of being labeled a traitor or a heretic.

The most unsettling demeanor of them all, however, was Nazir's. He was eerily quiet. His usual snide comments had ceased entirely. His main interaction with Tabby was to cast worried looks her way, and to shake his head at her when she tried to initiate conversation with either Astrid or Cicero. The hardened Redguard warrior, who scoffed at the most serious of dangers, seemed genuinely frightened for her safety.

After all, Tabby was in a most undesirable situation. She had a deep, almost irrational love for the Unholy Matron - such was the bond between Mother and Listener. The other assassins would never understand, and she worried that it was driving them apart. Her brothers were not afraid to be alone in a room with her, as they were with Astrid and Cicero, but she could tell her presence made them uneasy. And this made Tabby sick to her stomach. For as strong as her love for her Mother was, she couldn't bear the thought of the rest of her Family breaking apart - or worse, turning on each other.

So when Astrid sent her out on a job that was likely to take weeks, Tabby was mostly relieved to not have to spend another second in the fearful quiet of the Sanctuary. But as she turned to watch the Black Door close behind her, a fresh wave of anxiety swept over her. All she could do was hope that she would return to the same Sanctuary that she left.


	6. A Maddened Interlude

The silence. The silence the silence the silence. Why does the waif of a girl, still trembling in her Shrouded Boots, get to hear his Mother's voice, while loyal Cicero gets only silence?

He knew he mustn't question his all-knowing Mother. He knew he must serve the baby Listener, for there was a reason the Night Mother spoke to her. A reason that entirely escaped poor, beleaguered Cicero.

But why, Mother? When your most loyal servant has laid down years of his life for you, do you pick a teenager who knows nothing? Who is quite literally in bed with the enemy?

The enemy. The pretender. Astrid may have seduced the Listener, beguiled the rest of the Sanctuary, but the Fool of Hearts was anything but fooled. Astrid was heresy. Astrid did not believe in the Old Ways, and she deferred neither to her Mother nor her Listener. She held no authority over Cicero. But the Listener was another story.

How could their Mother smile upon a Listener who served two mistresses? How could the Keeper trust her, follow her, when her dedication to the Old Ways was questionable at best? Why - WHY - was she the Listener? She had done nothing to deserve it. Nothing!

The silence was not one of love. It was of rage. Of resentment. Of hatred.

The desert man cooked dinner, again. Stew, again. Cicero slurped and slurped while the undead prattled on, again. Then, he excused himself to perform his weekly bathing of Mother. He walked away. He did! But not before he heard Astrid mutter to her thugs:

"He can wash it all he pleases, but it's still going to be a crusty old corpse."

Heresy! Harlot! She had to be punished - they all did! The thugs LAUGHED at Astrid's treason - would they still be laughing in the Void? The Keeper drew his dagger and charged the pretender, not caring in the slightest who got in his way. Damn them all. They were not the Dark Brotherhood - not anymore. Only loyal Cicero was worthy of the Night Mother's love!

STAB! STABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTABSTAB!


	7. Chapter 7: The Betrayal

"What business you got in Mistveil Keep?"

Balimund had made the poor choice of approaching Tabby when she was fresh off a kill. Her head was still buzzing with satisfaction, the image of Gaius Maro choking on his own blood still sharp in her mind. She was in a dangerous mood. She looked not into Balimund's eyes, but at his pulsing jugular.

"Small dispute with the town guard," She said, struggling to even out her voice. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Do you want to stay awhile? Just finished breakfast, but I eat lunch around noon. Could join if you wanted."

Tabby sighed. Oh, how she wanted to stay. Nothing appealed to her more than an ordinary, pleasant lunch with Balimund, especially when she had such a tense situation at home to look forward to. But the sun had barely risen over Riften. If she left now, she could be back at the Sanctuary for dinner. And she did miss Nazir's stew.

"I wish I could," She said. "But I've already been away for too long. What about next time?"

Balimund gave her a smile, but underneath he looked disappointed. "Of course. Just never know when next time's going to be."

"Soon. I promise." She would keep good on that - Balimund's friendship was more important to her now than ever before.

When Tabby finally arrived in Falkreath, she expected Gabriella to react with jubilation at the news of Maro's death. Instead, she was greeted with a grim face and wringing hands. Only two words from the Dunmer told Tabby everything she needed to know:

"It's Cicero."

She pushed past Gabriella and rushed into the main cavern, where her Family surrounded a heavily bleeding Veezara. Ironically, the Argonian was the only one not to have flown into a murderous rage after the attack. Astrid waved her arms wildly at Tabby, insisting that she be the one to hunt down Cicero and execute him. She could feel the entire family's eyes trained on her as she struggled to respond. Nazir's most of all.

"But what _happened_ , Astrid? Surely there must have been something that set him off."

At first Astrid denied everything, until she got a cough and a sharp look from Veezara.

"Alright, alright. Perhaps I haven't exactly been discreet lately in expressing my frustration with this whole situation. Obeying the Night Mother. You being the Listener. It's ridiculous. No offense," She said, noting Tabby's raised eyebrows. "Cicero may have overheard me talking to the others about the Night Mother. It's possible I was... not entirely respectful."

To be completely honest, this upset Tabby as well. An insult to her Mother was not something she took lightly, but of course she couldn't say that to Astrid. Instead, she obeyed her orders to search Cicero's room for any clues that might lead to his whereabouts.

And that's when she found the journals, and when her heart broke for the man she had previously found insufferable. He had been a skilled assassin, and a devoted follower of the Night Mother. All he wanted was to please her, just as Tabby did now. And for his loyalty he was rewarded with unspeakable loss and a descent into insanity.

But when Tabby brought this to Astrid's attention, all she cared about was the passage referencing the abandoned Dawnstar Sanctuary.

"Why are you still standing here? My husband is out there somewhere with that lunatic!"

"Astrid, are you sure there's no way to work this out?"

Astrid laughed humorlessly. "Of course you'd take his side. You'd better watch yourself, Tabby. Or else you'll wind up as mad as him."

Astrid's threat dumbfounded Tabby for an instant. She was more hurt than she thought she'd be. How could her lover say such a thing?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nazir's nostrils flare in anger at Astrid, but Tabby ignored him and thrust the diary at Astrid again. "You don't know the things he's been through. I'm not saying what he did was right. But if you read this, you'd understand why he did it."

Astrid's glare softened ever so slightly. She took the book from Tabby, flipping through the pages. And when they locked eyes again, she looked more weary than angry. "Look, I take the familial ties of the Brotherhood seriously. And in truth, I've rarely met a lunatic I haven't liked. Cicero's problem isn't his madness. It's an adherence to an ancient, outmoded way of life. The Night Mother's ways…simply are not our ways. He just couldn't accept that. And now he'll have to pay the price."

"But…"

"Tabby." Astrid interrupted. Her voice was calm but it had an edge to it that stopped Tabby in her tracks. "It concerns me that you're so adamant about defending Cicero. He attacked one of our own. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Of course it does…"

"Then this is an excellent opportunity to prove your concern. And your loyalty. You and Cicero do come from the same Mother, after all."

It was then that Tabby noticed all eyes were on her. And they were not friendly eyes. Without another word she turned and exited the chamber. Things were happening too fast for her to keep up. She was angry at Astrid. Angry at Cicero. Scared at the way her Family had just looked at her. She was being pulled so far in both directions it seemed like her limbs would soon snap off. She wanted to obey Astrid. But neither did she believe that Cicero deserved to die.

Before she could make it to her room, a rough hand grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her down a side corridor. She found herself staring into Nazir's eyes, their faces just inches apart.

"Tabby," He said quietly. "If you want to live, you have to do what Astrid says."

"Astrid is wrong," Tabby said emphatically. "We must return to the Night Mother's ways. Maybe not so drastically as Cicero would like, but She is the core of everything that we are…"

"That's enough of that," Nazir hissed. "You may be right, for all I know. I'm not the one who can talk to the Night Mother, and neither is Astrid. Or Cicero, for that matter. But you can't say things like that. Not now. The tide in this Sanctuary has turned unwaveringly against Cicero. Against the Night Mother. And if you don't prove to everyone in that chamber that you're with them - that you're with Astrid - they will turn against you too."

"You don't understand the bond I have with the Night Mother. None of you do. Killing Cicero is betraying Her."

"You're not _listening_ , Tabby," Nazir looked not angry, but desperate. Scared. And that scared Tabby. "I'm not exaggerating when I say that I am trying to save your life right now. There have been…whispers."

Whispers? From her own Family? This stung harder than any cut from a blade.

"They worry that you're next. That you'll turn on them as Cicero did. That the Night Mother brainwashes…"

"They know nothing about the Night Mother!"

" _Shhh_!" Nazir looked around for someone who may have heard. "Listen, I despise Cicero as much as anyone else out there. I believe in Astrid as much as anyone else. But I know it isn't right to demonize you either. And I'm telling you, as your only ally in this moment, that it is imperative that you don't screw up these next few hours. Is it right to kill Cicero? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But that's not for you to decide. Especially if you value your own life."

With a heavy heart Tabby readied herself for departure. As she passed the Night Mother's coffin, she felt an unmistakable pull. She placed both hands on the coffin and bowed her head, expecting to feel her Mother's frigid embrace once again. But this time, her Mistress was distant. Displeased. Tabby felt desolate, but she knew she was not going to get her Mother's affection in the middle of this nightmare. And it pained her that even the Night Mother was against her now.

 _The Keeper is a sacred position within the Dark Brotherhood._

"I know, Mother."

 _There is a disturbance in the Void. Our Dread Father is angry. He does not wish this death. Will you ignore the will of our Lord Sithis himself?_

"But Astrid has given the order…"

 _Did I bestow upon Astrid any position of authority? Did Sithis?_

"No, Mother. But she's kept our Brotherhood alive."

 _That she has. But at what cost?_

"I am loyal to you, Mother. I am. But I also feel a sense of loyalty to Astrid."

 _Do what you must, Tabby. But know that whatever you choose will have consequences. Sithis willing you trust your Mother's wisdom._

* * *

"And now we've come to the end of our play. The grand finale."

Tabby wasn't hurt, but she was exhausted. She had gone in feeling off her game, distracted by the pivotal choice that loomed in front of her, and so the first of Cicero's spectral guards had spotted her right away. What she had intended to be a simple stealth mission turned into a drawn-out firefight between her and some long-dead assassins. Now she was victorious, but unsure if she had enough left in her to handle any tricks Cicero surely had waiting for her.

The one thing that she had on her side was that in addition to being exhausted, she was also angry. As Tabby battled her way through the ruined Sanctuary, Cicero's voice had echoed through the haunted halls, taunting her. Picking at her weaknesses. Mocking her brothers.

 _You'd think our sweet Mother would have at least picked a Listener with a sense of humor. Or any personality at all!_

 _You might be good with that bow, Listener, but you're foolish, so foolish. And they call me the Fool of Hearts! You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into, going to bed with that common whore._

 _If it's any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way! But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death._

But when she stepped into the final chamber of the Sanctuary, she realized that Cicero was in far worse shape than she was. Arnbjorn had already drained most of the life out of him; all she had to do was deal the final blow.

Trying to make her small frame look as big and ominous as possible, she slowly drew toward him, trying to will her anger to seep through her every pore. But Cicero only coughed. And laughed.

"You caught me! I surrender! Ha ha ha ha!"

Tabby said nothing, her mouth curling in disgust as she drew her dagger.

"Oh, you prefer to listen, eh? Of course, of course! The Listener listens! A joke! A funny joke! I get it. Then, listen to this - don't kill me."

Still Tabby was silent, wondering how the fool was going to charm himself out of this one. Cicero took the fact that she hadn't gutted him yet as a sign to keep talking.

"I attacked the strumpet Astrid, I did. And I'd do it again! Anything for my Mother…our Mother."

They did have the same Mother. At this point, it seemed they were the only two in the Sanctuary who did.

"Return to the pretender, tell her I'm dead. Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines! Ha ha! But lie! Lie, and let me live!"

Tabby still didn't like Cicero, and she still didn't think of Astrid as a pretender. Though she held him with more sympathy after reading his diary, Cicero was still volatile, prone to attack his own. Not to mention that every interaction of theirs seemed to be steeped in jealousy and resentment. Astrid, on the other hand, had single-handedly led the Brotherhood away from the brink of extinction. At the same time, she needed to adapt to the changing nature of the Brotherhood. She needed to accept her subordination to the Night Mother. And so far she was proving unwilling to do so.

She stared Cicero down for a few seconds longer, with steely, rage-filled glare that she hoped would signal to him that his death was nigh. And then she sheathed her dagger and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8: The Kitchen

When Tabby returned to the Sanctuary, Astrid was quite uncharacteristically fussing over the injured Arnbjorn, who seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention. Tabby had to say her mistress's name three times before she could get any kind of acknowledgement.

"Arnbjorn made it home safe, and for that you have my thanks. But what of the fool?"

Tabby had rehearsed this part over and over on the journey back to the Sanctuary. But in the moment, it was almost too easy to lie.

"Strangled with his own intestines." Tabby even let a sick grin spread across her face for good measure.

Astrid's eyes gleamed with pride. "You've proven yourself to be not only a born assassin, but a crucial member of this Sanctuary. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for any of us having doubted you." The surrounding assassins nodded in approval, and Veezara even put an encouraging claw on her shoulder. Amidst the wave of relief that washed over her, Tabby felt just the slightest twinge of guilt.

The only way they would find out was if Cicero was stupid enough to leave the Dawnstar Sanctuary anytime in the next century. Tabby didn't think he was stupid, but she also knew he couldn't be counted on. Especially when his beloved Mother still rested here in Falkreath.

If she was found out…she didn't even want to think about what would happen to her.

But for now, all was well. She had fallen back into favor with her Family, without disobeying her Mother. They could focus on the Emperor contract again, the contract that would cause the Brotherhood name to strike fear into the heart of Skyrim once again. Their family was unified once again. All was well.

Until it wasn't.

The Gourmet contract had gone off flawlessly, and Astrid had even given Tabby the immense honor of killing the Emperor herself. Truth be told, Tabby would have been outraged if Astrid had picked anyone else. The others had done most of the pre-mission planning, but Tabby had done all of the legwork leading up to this point. She had proved herself invaluable to the Sanctuary. She deserved this.

The night before she was set to leave for the Emperor job, she was shaken awake in the middle of the night. Irritated, she opened to her eyes to gaze up at a tangled mess of blonde hair.

"Astrid? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, silly thing. Come with me."

Astrid pulled her from her bed and led her by the hand, down to the now-empty main chamber of the Sanctuary. Next to the warm glow of Arnbjorn's forge she had laid out a large fur. Astrid detangled her hand from Tabby's and moved it to the small of her back before sliding it downwards, earning a sharp breath from Tabby.

" _Here_?" She whispered.

"Arnbjorn is in my bed. But I want you tonight."

"What if someone wakes up?"

"They won't. Everyone is sleeping soundly tonight, knowing that tomorrow we will have pulled off the biggest job of any of our careers. All thanks to you."

"I almost thought you had abandoned me, Astrid. That you all had."

"I'm not proud of the way I treated you. We were all scared. The Brotherhood has barely survived its siege from outside forces. If we start attacking each other from within, we're done for. But I see now that the way we turned on you that day was no better than what Cicero did. Will you forgive me, Tabby?"

She responded with a passionate kiss on Astrid's lips. Her mistress gently pushed her onto the fur and straddled her, running her delicate hands down Tabby's body.

"I would never abandon you. Don't you know how much I care for you?" Astrid whispered in her ear before planting a rough kiss on her neck and a hand between her legs. Tabby let out a loud moan, and Astrid smirked.

"Careful, now. The others aren't sleeping _that_ soundly."

Later they lay by the fire, naked and still breathing heavily. Tabby rested her head on Astrid's chest, sighing happily as she stroked her hair gently.

"No matter what happens, I will never forget this night," Astrid murmured. Tabby snuggled closer, her eyes heavy with sleep.

"No matter what happens? Have a little faith in me," Tabby teased.

"Oh, I have every faith in you, darling. You've almost single-handedly turned our luck around, after all."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Tabby spoke again. "Astrid?"

"Hmm?"

"Where do we go when we die? Where does Arnbjorn?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've pledged ourselves to the Void, have we not? But as Nords, we have the chance to enter Sovngarde. But does Shor even want a couple of dirty assassins like us? And Arnbjorn's a werewolf, so isn't he supposed to go to the Hunting Grounds?"

"Why on Nirn are you worrying about that now?"

"I'm not worried. Just curious. You know I love the Night Mother more than anyone on Nirn, but I'd be lying if I said Sovngarde didn't sound a thousand times more pleasant than the Void."

Astrid laughed, but for some reason it seemed just a little forced. "Shh, Tabby. Rest now. You have a long day ahead of you, and the afterlife is far to come."

The entire Sanctuary gathered to see her off the following morning, an excited energy in the air for the first time in months. Babette fussed over her, insisting on packing and repacking her satchel. Festus, snarky as ever, told her to make sure not to nibble on the jarrin root if she got hungry on the journey to Solitude. Veezara, lips spread wide in what Tabby could only assume was a smile, hugged her tightly before she left. "Such great honor you are about to bring upon this Sanctuary, Sister," He said.

"Veezara's right," Astrid said, stepping in front of Tabby. "You're about to change the course of the Dark Brotherhood forever. Now go, my friend. Go, and fulfill your destiny as the Listener."

Astrid had never before referred to Tabby as the Listener. She didn't like to talk about that title. And for some reason, she wouldn't meet Tabby's eyes. But there was no time to worry about that now. Now, she had an Emperor to kill.

* * *

For as serious a job as this was, Tabby was immensely enjoying herself. She, usually known for her stony demeanor, played the role of Gourmet with gusto. As the Castle Dour's cook hesitantly remarked that she never thought the Gourmet to be a young Nord woman, Tabby placed the ridiculously poofy chef's hat upon her head with a flourish.

" ** _Enough_**!" She cut off the cook's nervous babbling, lowering her voice by several octaves. "The Gourmet is here to cook, not talk!"

"Oh! Yes, but of course!" The cook stammered, clearly starstruck.

In truth, she knew absolutely nothing about the Potage le Magnifique, but she also knew that the cook would not question her no matter what she said. So after a few average suggestions - carrots, a splash of mead - the stew began to take a turn for the strange.

"A…giant's toe? You're…sure about that?"

" ** _I said a giant's toe! Do not question the Gourmet!_** " Tabby thundered gleefully. For her it had become a game of how ridiculous she could be, and yet the young cook still cowered before her. So wrapped up was Tabby in her magnificent acting job that she almost forgot to add the most important ingredient.

"Wait!" She cried. "Just one thing more. My special ingredient." Shoving the cook aside, she carefully grated the jarrin root into the pot.

Tabby knew that after serving the soup she had to wait and watch him die, just to be sure. However, she was not looking forward to the mad dash she would have to make in order to escape with her head. As she watched the Emperor slurp his soup, she edged toward the door Astrid had pointed out to her, subtly spreading her feet apart and bending her knees. She was out the door before the bodyguard could finish shouting, "By the gods!"

Leaving the cook to her fate, Tabby sprinted madly across the bridge to her escape. It was too easy! The guards were never going to catch her! A grin spread across her face as she let herself begin to enjoy her success. Just like that, she had pulled off the job of the Era. Until Commander Maro and three of his cronies burst out of the tower ahead of her.

Tabby screeched to a halt and drew her dagger, but none of the agents attacked. Instead, Commander Maro leered down at her from the tower balcony with a sinister grin.

"That man was, by far, the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has ever employed. I'm glad he's dead."

Decoy?

"Let me pass, or you'll be next," Tabby tried to bluff, but the Commander just laughed.

"You, an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, have just made an attempt on the Emperor's life. Would have succeeded, had it been the real man."

Tabby's facade broke, unable to hide the shock on her face. Maro's smirk only grew.

"Surprised? So was I, when a member of your "Family" came to me with the plan. We worked out a deal, you see. I get the Listener, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue its existence."

Tabby felt like she had been punched in the gut. One of her beloved Siblings had betrayed her? It was impossible. They had put all the tension and misery Cicero had brought behind them!

"You're lying!" She screamed.

"Oh, I've lied alright, but not to you. For you see, I've changed my mind. Your Sanctuary's being put to the sword today. My agents are on their way to butcher each and every one of your miserable friends right along with you. That's what I think of this 'deal.' You killed my son! All of you! And now, you evil bitch, now you'll pay the price." The agents on the bridge with her drew their swords now, sensing Maro's command before it came.

"Kill her. And make sure there's nothing left to bury." Maro turned his back and walked away from the ledge and out of sight, and the three agents lunged at her.

They were strong, but slow, and Tabby was a ball of frenzied rage. They were no match as she ducked their blows and hacked at them with her dagger like there was no tomorrow. When the three bodies lay bleeding out on the ground, Tabby resumed her sprint. Tears clouded her vision as she leapt upon Shadowmere and threw him into a furious gallop. With supernatural power surely behind it, - help from Sithis, perhaps, or from the Night Mother - Shadowmere galloped far faster than any mortal horse ever could. Tabby resisted the urge to scream, but instead chewed furiously on her lip. She could only hope she would get there in time to stop the carnage, but she knew with nauseating certainty that the Penitus Oculatus could be hours ahead of her.


	9. Chapter 9: The Fire

She rode up to the Sanctuary already shooting. Arrow after arrow she volleyed at the three or four Oculatus agents lurking outside, having to dismount only to gut the last one. That's when she saw Festus. Pinned to a nearby tree like a hide to a tanning rack, riddled with so many arrows as to be almost unrecognizable. Panic rose inside her, but she fought it back. There could still be time to save the others. Dropping into a crouch, Tabby slipped through the already-ajar Black Door.

The smoke was so thick that she could barely see or breathe, and she heard the crackling of flames not too far in the distance. Just ahead of her, two agents stood over what she hoped desperately was a third's body. She easily picked off one with a stealth shot, and managed to down the other before he could reach her through the smoke. With dread Tabby drew near the third body, pleading with the Night Mother for it to be another agent.

It was Veezara.

Tabby let out a horrible cry, half a scream and half a sob. There lay her gentle and wise Veezara, who had only yesterday wrapped her in his scaly arms and whispered words of encouragement in her ear. Tabby put away her bow and drew her dagger, for this was not a time to linger in the shadows. She wanted to see the whites of her enemies' eyes as she hacked them to pieces.

But room by blazing room, whatever small heart Tabby had broke into smaller and smaller pieces. She almost tripped over Gabriella's corpse, then crossed into the next chamber just in time to watch Arnbjorn be slaughtered, helpless to do anything but send his murderers to the Void after him. With every new body her despair grew, and Tabby started to wonder if she should just throw herself into the flames. The thought of being the only survivor, with her entire Family gone, was unbearable.

Then she rounded the corner and saw Nazir holding his own against a single agent, and a flame was reignited in her. He wasn't in immediate danger, but he was on the defensive. Tabby raised her bow and hit the Oculatus scum clean in the chest, toppling him to the ground. Nazir hesitated in confusion, looking in Tabby's direction before delivering the fatal blow.

"Tabby?"

She stepped through the smoke and saw Nazir's face clearly now. A face she had never before been so happy to see.

"So you are alive. I was starting to wonder." The Redguard yelled over the roaring flames.

"It was all a trap. Someone's betrayed us."

"You don't say?"

"Nazir…" Now was about the least appropriate time for sarcasm, and he seemed to know it.

"Considering most of us are now dead, I assumed as much. And before you ask - no, I don't think it was , maybe I did, but that arrow erased any doubts. So thanks."

"Thank me later. We haven't gotten out of here yet."

"Right you are. We'll be roasted alive if we don't move. Come on!" In a very un-Nazir maneuver, he took Tabby's hand and led her on a mad dash through the Sanctuary.

 _Listener. I am your only salvation. Come. Embrace me._

"What are you doing?" Nazir shouted as she approached the coffin room.

"I don't know, but you have to trust me!" She screamed back as she closed the coffin doors.

Sounds of explosions surrounded her in the darkness, and then of glass breaking. She felt herself being pitched through the air before landing - _hard_ \- with a splash. Her head cracked sickeningly against the roof of the coffin, and her eyes instantly became heavy. The last thing she heard before fading into the darkness was her Mother's voice once more.

 _Sleep…_

When she regained consciousness, Tabby was certain she was dead. All was dark, and all was silent. This was the end. This was the Void.

But if she was dead, why was her entire body - but especially her head - still screaming in pain? And then…

"Hurry, Nazir! Before she runs out of oxygen!"

"I'm…going…as fast…as I can, you stupid she-Devil…"

 _You must speak with Astrid. Here, in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary._

So she wasn't dead after all. And, against all odds, neither were Babette, Nazir and Astrid.

At last Nazir managed to pry open the coffin, causing Tabby to tumble out and onto the floor. Groaning in pain, she lurched to her feet, but Nazir reached out a hand to stop her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. It's alright. You've been through a lot. Maybe you should just sit down for a bit."

Tabby said nothing in reply. Words seemed beyond her at the moment. She was completely stunned by everything she had just seen. And her head was still killing her.

All was quiet in the Sanctuary now. A silence heavy with the deaths of her Brothers. Somehow the flames had been put out, but she didn't have the energy to ask their comrades how they had done it. Instead she staggered down the corridor, ignoring Babette and Nazir's exchange of worried glances.

"She's definitely suffered a head wound. Best not let her out of our sight…" The Redguard and the vampire followed closely behind her, both gasping loudly as the three entered Astrid's room.

It was a horrific sight. There lay Astrid, the once beautiful woman who had dazzled Tabby, now burnt almost beyond recognition. Somehow, she was still alive - they could hear her pained gasps for air as she lay within a circle of candles, a dagger and a sprig of nightshade just out of reach.

"Alive…" Astrid croaked, her voice barely audible after all the smoke damage. "You're alive…Thank Sithis…"

It was too late for her, just as it was for all the others. Tabby could not save her.

"Astrid…"

"Shh…There is much I have to say. And not much time…I'm sorry, Tabby. So very sorry. The Penitus Oculatus…Maro…He said if I gave you to them, he would leave the Brotherhood alone. Forever. By Sithis, I was such a fool."

Her stomach dropped. Her beloved Astrid was the reason for all of this bloodshed."You have innocent blood on your hands," Tabby said in a monotone voice. "The blood of our brothers and sisters. Of your husband."

"I know what I've done. You are the best of us, and I nearly killed you... as I've killed everyone else…"

"I knew you never loved me," Tabby said. "But I thought I meant _something_ to you. I was still your Sister. And you kissed me on the lips and sent me to the slaughter."

"I don't expect your forgiveness," Astrid whispered. "I mistreated you horribly. I deserve whatever judgement awaits for me in the Void. I just wanted things... to stay the way they were. Before Cicero, before the Night Mother. Before... you. I thought I could save us. But now I see. The Brotherhood…doesn't need saving. Because you're alive! With you, there's still a chance. To start over, to rebuild. That's…why I did this. I prayed to the Night Mother. I am the Black Sacrament."

"Astrid…what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you were right all along. I was a fool to doubt the Night Mother, and to be suspicious of you. The old ways... they guided the Dark Brotherhood for centuries. I was wrong to oppose them. And to prove my... sincerity, I have prayed for a contract. I give you the Blade of Woe, so that you can see it through."

"No…you can't mean…"

"It must be, Tabby. You are the future of the Dark Brotherhood. Not me, not Nazir or Babette. You. You lead this Family now. You must finish this. You must kill…me…"

Tabby should have felt uncontrollable rage at her former mistress. She, whom Tabby thought could be trusted above all others, had thrown her away like rubbish. Because of her, almost everyone she loved was dead. Yet Tabby looked at Astrid, and her heart ached. She thought she had done the right thing. She thought she was protecting her Family. And she had repented for her crimes.

There was nothing left to be said. All Tabby could do was bring an end to her lover's suffering, and hope that she found redemption in the Void. With a shaky hand she grasped the Blade of Woe, and, planting one last kiss on Astrid's scorched lips, Tabby plunged the dagger into her heart.

"Thank…you…"

It was over. Even though the Dark Brotherhood itself would live on as long as she did, Tabby knew that the Brotherhood she had known and loved was gone. Almost every member of her Family had been murdered. The warm, mossy cave she called home lay in ruins. And even if they managed to reconstruct it, it wouldn't be the same with its now empty corridors.

Astrid had given her so much joy in the short time they knew each other, but ultimately, Astrid was also the ruin to her happiness. And so Tabby took the Blade of Woe as her sole reminder of her fallen leader, and left the body to rot with the rest of the Sanctuary.

Tabby and Nazir did bury their other brethren, in unmarked graves between two trees. Soon no one would remember that any of them had ever existed, and their bodies would return, forgotten, to the soil. As Nazir and Babette picked through the Sanctuary for what few salvageable items were left, Tabby sat cross-legged by the pond. Babette was concerned about Tabby's head - both the hit she took in the coffin and her mental state - and had insisted that she take a few minutes of rest.

She should have been in agony over what had just transpired, but all she felt was sickening numbness. She could not accept that her Family was gone. And she could not accept that she was to lead the Sanctuary. She was an assassin, and a damned good one, but nothing more. She lacked Astrid's leadership skills, not to mention her experience. Who was to say that she wouldn't immediately run the Brotherhood into the ground?

"Tabby. Help me load the wagon."

Slowly, stiffly, Tabby walked to where Nazir was standing and picked up a nearby crate. Visions of Arnbjorn's and Veezara's lifeless bodies were seared into her mind.

"I can't lead this Sanctuary."

"You must. It will be difficult, and at times thankless. But it is your destiny, and you must do it. Or our Brotherhood is finished."

"Why did it have to be my destiny? It should have been you the Night Mother picked. I'm barely seventeen years old. I haven't even had a year with the Brotherhood. No one in their right mind would take orders from me."

In a rare gesture of affection, Nazir put his hand on her shoulder. "Listener, I'll follow you until I'm dust in the breeze. You do realize that?"

It was the first time he had used her title. Tabby knew that she had earned Nazir's respect long ago. But now, she had his trust. That was enough. If Nazir believed in her, if the Night Mother believed in her, then maybe this wasn't a mistake. Perhaps this really was her destiny.

Soon the wagon was loaded and hitched onto Shadowmere. Babette and Nazir would make their way to Dawnstar and begin the Sanctuary's rehabilitation. But Tabby was headed north. She had two dates, one with Commander Maro and one with Titus Mede II. And she always kept her appointments.


	10. Chapter 10: The Contract

It didn't take her long to locate Commander Maro. He was standing watch at the Solitude docks, just as she'd suspected he would be. When she found him, his back was turned, gazing at the Katariah where the Emperor was blissfully enjoying his final hours.

She said nothing. She did not move. She merely stood silently behind him until Maro finally felt her eyes boring into his back. Slowly he turned. Watching the color drain from his face _almost_ brought a smile to her still-numb lips.

"It's…not possible…"

Still silent, Tabby pushed back her cowl. Maro's eyes widened in shock. Perhaps even…fear?

"No. You're dead. I saw to it myself. By the gods…"

"The gods can't help you now, Maro," Tabby said. A perhaps overused line, but still a classic. She slit his throat, letting him watch the blood pour out for a few seconds before shoving him unceremoniously off the dock.

Revenge was indeed sweet, but it didn't bring her Family back to life.

Her next step would be a little more difficult. Tabby hated swimming, but it seemed that the only way she would make it onboard was to climb up the anchor chain. Then there was the matter of avoiding the various sailors and bodyguards on board. Tempting as it was to storm in daggers swinging, that wasn't the practical approach, particularly not in her state of mind. Painfully slowly, she stuck to the shadows and crept to the Emperor's cabin.

She managed to be practically silent in slipping through the Emperor's door. But somehow, he noticed her almost immediately. And he seemed to be waiting for her. "Once more, I prove Commander Maro a fool. I told him you can't stop the Dark Brotherhood."

Tabby was floored, but she tried to deliver her prepared line anyway. "Your rule is at an end, Titus. Sithis commands it."

"Oh, you can save your sinister bravado. I know why you're here. I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. But I wonder…would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?"

Tabby hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was unprofessional for a Dark Brotherhood assassin to negotiate with their clients. Then she thought: _Astrid would have listened._ So she nodded hesitantly, and the Emperor smiled.

"I thank you for your courtesy. You will kill me, and I have accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain…ambition. So I ask of you a favor. An old man's dying wish. While there are many who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whomever they may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?"

She was sure this was an unprecedented request. Then again, this was an unprecedented contract.

"I'll…consider your request," She said, struggling to maintain an air of professionalism.

The Emperor smiled once more. "Thank you, now on to the business at hand I suppose?"

He turned his back on her and strode to other side of the room, gazing out the window. In all the contracts she had ever taken on, she had never seen anyone accept their fate so peacefully. She could only hope that she would do the same when her time came.

Slowly Tabby approached behind him, drawing the Blade of Woe for the first time. It was supposed to be a symbol of her status, but she struggled to grip it confidently. It still felt like Astrid's blade. She placed her left hand on the Emperor's shoulder, her lips to his ear, and the dagger to his chest.

"You are an honorable man," She murmured into his ear. "And I will give you an honorable death." With one swift motion, she drove the blade deep into his heart. Once he fell, she undertook the great effort of dragging him to his bed, folding his hands across his chest and closing his eyes. Were it not for the blood blossoming across his robes, he could be sleeping.

She was still confused beyond measure. How the Emperor had known she was to kill him, and what "ambition" he had been referring to, was beyond her. But there was no time to ponder those mysteries now. All that was left for Tabby to do was to leap from his balcony into the sea, thus making her escape. And with that, the Dark Brotherhood had at last pulled off the crime of the Era.

* * *

Tabby had never much cared for Amaund Motierre, but at the same time she was fairly certain it was bad for business to kill the Brotherhood's clients. Still, in their short interaction she had truly grown to admire Titus Mede II, and believed that his request was a fair one. She arrived at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun entirely unsure of what she would do.

Motierre was beside himself with smug glee at the news of the Emperor's death. After concluding - condescendingly but rightfully so - that Tabby was much more concerned about payment than politics, he quickly revealed the location of the dead drop.

"Now please, go. Collect your money, and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded."

She could not kill their client. She could not kill their client. She turned to leave, but as she reached the door she remembered the Emperor's wise and vaguely sad eyes meeting with hers. At the very last moment, she turned to face Motierre once more.

"Actually, there is one more thing we need to discuss."

"Oh, for the love of Mara. What is it?"

"Just a favor. For an honorable man."

Motierre's face curled in disgust. "You assassins and your riddles. It really does get very annoying you know. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must insist…"

Tabby couldn't have cared less how Motierre was going to finish his sentence, so she shut him up by chucking the Blade of Woe across the room. By luck more than skill - or perhaps by the departed Emperor's intervention - the tip of the blade hit him square in the throat. Gagging on his own blood, Motierre croaked, "But…we had a deal…" before finally dying.

"Good riddance," Tabby muttered. She grabbed the Blade and pulled hard, dislodging it from his neck with a number of nauseating squelching noises. Then she strolled out of the inn as if nothing had happened.


	11. Chapter 11: The Blacksmith

In the time it took Tabby to successfully take three lives, Babette and Nazir had cleared the cobwebs, Chaurus, and assorted detritus cluttering the Dawnstar sanctuary. Curiously, they seemed to have found no sign of Cicero.

Now, she and Nazir stood side beside in the dark, drafty main chamber as she surveyed their still-empty but significantly cleaner new home. Babette lurked nearby, humming a tune as she set up her alchemy table.

"Clearly it still needs some repairs. Some furnishing couldn't hurt either. But I think we'll make out just fine here," Nazir said hopefully. Tabby just sighed.

"It's dark in here. And freezing. At least Falkreath was bright and warm."

"It smelled like mildew," Nazir reminded her.

"I liked the smell."

Now Nazir sighed. "Well, you'll have to get used to this smell. We've got no other place to go, and we need to lay low for awhile. After your display on the Solitude docks, the Penitus Oculatus are surely out looking for any more survivors."

"Don't try and tell me that pig didn't have it coming…"

"I agree he was a rat bastard who needed to die. But you could've been a little more subtle."

"I wanted to send a message."

Nazir threw up his hands. "Fine. Regardless, even when his agents stop looking for us you'll still have to ease up on the contracts."

"No!" Tabby blurted, her first major display of emotion since the attack. "Nazir, why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're the Listener. How are we supposed to get contracts of you aren't around to hear them?" Nazir softened his tone, seeing her dejected face. "It'll be alright. You'll still get some contracts. The best ones. I swear it."

"And how are you and Babette alone planning on bearing the brunt of the work, hmm?"

"That's the other thing I wanted to discuss. We need to rebuild our numbers. Once things have settled down a bit, you and I need to invest some time in recruiting new members. We'll develop a more concrete plan when you return from your visit to our good friends in the Ratway."

Tabby nodded. "Right. I'll leave first thing in the morning."

"After all," Nazir added. "We'll need some help if we are to fully execute our revenge."

That revenge, as Tabby, Babette and Nazir had agreed upon, was to wipe out every single member of the Penitus Oculatus. Even if it took them the rest of their lives, they were united in their eye-for-an-eye philosophy.

Nazir busied himself setting up his cooking pot, and Babette was laying out three bedrolls by the small fire they had coaxed out. Tabby slipped down a nearby corridor, but not before she heard Nazir say:

"I don't know, Babette. She's always been a stony one, but she still isn't the same…"

Tabby wandered to the room where not so long ago she had "killed" Cicero. It was somehow even colder there than the common area. She sank to her knees, and finally let the first tears she had shed in years leak from her eyes.

Everything had been ruined. She had finally found a family, only to have them ripped away from her. The only place she had ever called home had been destroyed. And now she was stuck with a title she did not want in a dark, dingy sanctuary that was not her own. She knew she had to continue on, for Nazir and Babette's sake, and for the future of the Brotherhood. But as she let an agonized scream escape from her lips, she began to wish that she had died in the attack on Falkreath.

She felt a small hand on her shoulder then, and she turned her head to lock eyes with Babette.

"Living for two hundred years, I've lost a lot of people that I loved," The vampire said. "But I'll never forget the first time."

"Who was it?"

"My baby sister. Long, long ago, when I was human. One day we were playing in the garden together; the next, she came down with a fever that she never awakened from."

"I'm sorry, Babette. I had no idea." Tabby kicked herself for never having asked about Babette's family. She figured they were so long dead that it no longer mattered.

"I'm not trying to gain your sympathy. I'm just saying that experiencing a loss is difficult beyond measure. And being human - especially a human as young as you - makes you feel the pain more strongly. But time heals all things. I promise you that."

"I never had anyone who mattered to me until I joined the Brotherhood. I had grown used to being alone."

"You're not alone now, Listener. You have me and Nazir, but you have so much more. Our brothers and sisters still walk beside you. They whisper to you from the Void. And they will be waiting to embrace you when your time comes."

* * *

Biting marine wind greeted her the next morning as she hauled open the Black Door. Tabby had to admit that it was nice to be close to the sea, though it was nothing compared to the beauty of her pine forests. As she readied to mount Shadowmere, she tried to shake the numbness that still enveloped her. She needed to have her wits about her to do business with the Thieves Guild…

"Listener!"

Tabby startled, and was momentarily jarred out of her fog. She turned in the direction of the voice, and her eyes nearly bulged out her sockets.

"What in the name of Sithis…"

But really, how could she be surprised? A second Oblivion Crisis couldn't keep Cicero from his sweet Mother - or his dear Listener.

"Thought that I'd be halfway across Cyrodiil by now, didn't you?" Cicero clapped his hands in glee. "Not so! Loyal Cicero hid in this icy dump for weeks, sure that his Listener would return for him someday. And she has! All hail the Listener!"

Needless to say, Nazir was unimpressed by the jester's return. "Why am I not surprised?" He said, casting a raised eyebrow Tabby's way. But Babette flashed a toothy grin, saying it would be nice to have another person in the new Sanctuary who wasn't a complete grump, and that was that. Tabby turned to leave once more as Cicero settled down to fuss over the Night Mother, scolding all three of the others for their inadequate care of Her body. She caught Nazir mouthing the words "help me" at her over Cicero's shoulder, and she couldn't help a small smile.

They were a ragtag bunch, the four of them. A child of night. A stalker of the sands. A fool driven to madness. The youngest - and perhaps most incompetent - Listener the Brotherhood had seen in centuries. But they were still family. And personal preferences aside, they had a place where they were safe. Where they could rebuild. One way or another, her family lived on

* * *

The Thieves' Guild, despite also being down on their luck of late, had been uncharacteristically helpful to the Dark Brotherhood through this whole Emperor plot. But Tabby still didn't trust any of them as far as she could throw them. She remained polite to Delvin Mallory as they discussed the refurbishments for the Dawnstar Sanctuary, but colder than ever. She laughed at none of his jokes, and refused his request to spin around so he could get a better look at the lovely new Listener.

Delvin laughed cruelly. "Love, the Brotherhood must really be in trouble if you're the best leader they've got. You've got about as much charisma as a rotting Skeever corpse."

"Forgive me for not feeling jovial days after my entire Sanctuary has been murdered."

That sobered Delvin up. "My apologies, Listener. I am truly sorry for your loss. Especially about Astrid. Now there was a hell of a woman."

"Indeed there was."

Delvin counted out Tabby's gold carefully. "It's no secret that we've not been doing well of late. This will be an enormous boon to us. At the very least, it'll help me pay our thieves for their work." He slid a receipt across the table. "We've got a new member who's flying through jobs faster than we can hand them out. Maybe he's the one who can finally turn things around for us."

"Well, if he decides he likes killing people more than taking their things, feel free to send him my way," Tabby said, which earned a laugh from Delvin.

After emerging from the Ratway she willed herself not to stop at Balimund's forge, but in that moment he was the only person she wanted to see. The blacksmith smiled warmly at the sight of her, but something in her eyes must have alerted him that something had gone wrong.

"You alright, Tabby? You look like something terrible's happened," He said, his brow crinkling in worry.

Tabby took a deep breath, intending to say, "I'm fine, thank you." But instead the floodgates opened, and she found herself telling him everything she could, taking care to change the most compromising details. Her voice wavered with true grief as she told Balimund a modified story of how marauders had attacked her family's home in the countryside, killing most of her family and sending the rest into hiding in Dawnstar. Tears welled up in her eyes once again she recalled the mounting panic as she realized she was too late to save them, the unparalleled pain as she discovered corpse after corpse of her loved ones, until she was sobbing too hard to speak. Balimund wrapped his strong arms around her and sat her on his bench, and she buried her head in his chest, breathing in his scent of leather and soot. He murmured apologies and soothing words in her ear until she finally exhausted all her tears.

"What will you do now?" Balimund asked softly when it seemed Tabby was capable of words.

"Not a clue." Tabby grabbed at her cowl, using the face mask to dab at her eyes. "My sister and brothers expect me to join them in Dawnstar, of course. But I hate it there. It just isn't my home. And I don't know if I can bear to be cooped up in such an empty place that should be filled with the people I loved."

Balimund was quiet. He seemed to be thinking hard. "I took Asbjorn from Honorhall when he was just a boy," He said. "I wanted an apprentice, but it turned out that I gained a son. He smiled, as if remembering some fond memory. "I'm not sure how old you are, but if you wanted to stay with me, learn the smithing trade, I don't mind taking on another apprentice."

Oh, how badly she wanted to take Balimund up on his offer. And yet, how fully she knew that she couldn't.

"You're incredibly kind," She said. "But as much as I would love to never set foot in Dawnstar again…my family needs me, and I could never abandon them like that."

Balimund smiled. "Your loyalty is admirable. Go take care of your family, Tabby. But know that if you need any favor at all, Balimund is your man. And that you always have a home when you're in Riften."

Tabby, overcome with gratitude and emotion, pushed back her cowl. For the first time, they stood truly face to face. "Thank you, my friend," She said, struggling to keep her voice from wavering. "I'm more grateful than you'll ever know."

Balimund placed a dry, cracked hand on her shoulder. "You've been a good friend to me. That means something. And you deserve a lot better than the lot you've been dealt so far." He smiled sadly. "Now go home. Take care of your family. Things will turn around for you soon."

"I hope so."


	12. Chapter 12: The Redguard

Nazir knew full well how much Tabby hated Dawnstar. It was stupidly cold, a kind not even Nord blood could remedy, and everything was grey: the sky, the ground, the water, the buildings, the people. The locals were all either ill-mannered sailors or ill-mannered miners, with the odd Mythic Dawn fanatic thrown in for drama. He knew she missed their old Sanctuary, and their lost brethren. He could tell she was unhappy there, and it scared the Oblivion out of him.

She was too skinny, too young, and too inexperienced. She lacked Astrid's charisma, confidence, and natural leadership. She was stoic and unreadable much of the time, but prone to impulsive outbursts. And really, she had little desire to lead in the first place. For all her faults, she was not greedy for power.

Had the Night Mother never arrived in Falkreath, she would have been the best career assassin the Brotherhood had seen in a damn long time. She moved so quietly they would sometimes lose her in the caverns of the Sanctuary, and when she stepped into the shadows she all but disappeared. She was decent with a blade, especially when it came to stealth kills, but she was downright inspired with a bow. They had been in desperate need of a specialized archer, and it was as if Sithis himself had dropped her in front of them. By Oblivion, he had seen her take down one of Festus's storm atronachs in just two hits. Sure, she had been cocky when she first arrived, but she had worked hard and now had that air about her - dead serious, but able to deliver the snark signature to the Dark Brotherhood, and that icy gaze that told you she was thinking of all the ways she could kill you.

Yes, she was a gifted assassin. And now, she was the Listener. Nazir could hardly believe it when he heard that piece of news. Skilled as she was, she was the least assuming of the lot, the last person he would have suspected. Truthfully, he would have thought it to be Astrid or even himself. But the fact of the matter was that it was not him or Astrid; it was Tabby. The Night Mother saw something in her, gave her a gift that no one else had, and that alone qualified her to lead. Yet it was more than the Night Mother's blessing that made Nazir bend his knee to a seventeen year old.

When Tabby completed every one of her contracts flawlessly, she earned his respect as an assassin. When the weeks rolled by, and her carefully constructed demeanor began to melt, she earned his respect as a friend. But when she charged straight into the flames of the Falkreath Sanctuary, she earned his respect as a sister. He knew that she would readily give her life for the Brotherhood. And so he was ready to follow her until the end of his days.

Even so, it took time to get used to her new role. He still got irritated with her as he always did. There was one morning when he and Babette were discussing how to handle a particularly dangerous contract, when Tabby interjected to ask if she could be the one to carry it out.

"And get yourself needlessly killed? I think not. Don't be dense, Tabby."

Babette gave him a sharp look. "She may be your protege, but she's also the Listener, Nazir. Let us address her as such," She said sternly. "And with the proper respect."

"I don't mind, really…" Tabby started, but Babette cut her off.

"Of course you don't, but we have to set a good example. It won't be just the four of us forever, and you'll be hard pressed to get people to accept you as an authority figure as it is. No offense."

Babette had a point. Yet, gradually he began to notice a change in Tabby. When she gave orders or made decisions, her voice no longer wavered. Less and less frequently did she ask Nazir if she had made the right call. And as Tabby began to thrive, so did the Brotherhood. The contracts came pouring in, and so did the eager young whelps begging to join. And when a brand new recruit dared to laugh upon seeing his Listener for the first time, he and Babette leapt to her defense only to find there was no need. Tabby gave him a glare so dangerous that Nazir actually saw the lad tremble.

"Do you question the judgement of our Unholy Matron?" Tabby said coldly.

"N-no, ma'am…"

"Then shut up and start earning your keep. When you disrespect the Listener, you disrespect the Night Mother and the Dread Father."

Nazir was filled with pride. This was not the overconfident greenhorn who had shot an arrow at him, nor the scared girl he had pulled from the wreckage of the Falkreath Sanctuary. This was a young woman who knew her worth, whose confidence was growing with every passing day. This, standing before him, was the Listener.

"The growing pains are beginning to pass," Babette remarked, a small smirk upon her lips.

"She still doesn't have Astrid's wit. Or warmth."

"And perhaps she never will. But perhaps this Sanctuary doesn't need another Astrid. We've had Listeners who were kind and gentle, and we've had Listeners who were strict authoritarians. We must trust that the Night Mother gave us the Listener that we need right now."

Nazir was quiet for a moment, watching Tabby take her seat at the head of the table. She looked significantly less uncomfortable there as she had even a month ago.

"She's just young, Nazir. And she was thrust into this all too fast. Usually the Listener is chosen from among the Black Hand, after years of experience. She'll learn. Trust her. Trust the Night Mother."

There was that word Babette kept using. Trust. Trust had long been hard to come by for Nazir. Neither Hammerfell nor Skyrim had been kind to him, and he had long believed that the only person he could rely on was himself. But now, for better or for worse, he was going to put all his faith into the Brotherhood that had given him so much. And that meant he was going to put his faith into the Listener.

* * *

The weeks passed. Work rolled in. Eager young whelps showed up, eager to prove themselves. They'd slip up and be killed, and a new crop of eager whelps would take their place. The rumor persisted that the Penitus Oculatus was still out for revenge, but nothing ever came of it.

Until suddenly, one frigid afternoon in Sun's Dawn, the louts decided they were ready to get off their asses and act on those rumors.

Nazir was jolted out of his after-lunch meditation by a forceful pounding on the Black Door, followed by the Door's whisper: _You are not worthy_. He ventured into the main corridor, joined shortly by Babette.

"One of the new recruits probably forgot the password," Babette said, although she didn't sound at all sure of this.

The pounded intensified, followed by a muffled shout. "Open up, assassin scum! We know you're in there! Open up, and face justice for your crimes against the Empire!"

Nazir turned to Babette. "Does that sound like one of the recruits to you?"

The little vampire rolled her eyes. "This is a great time to be joking around, Nazir. What are we going to do?"

"Stay put. They're not going to get in."

"They did last time…"

"Last time they didn't pick the middle of a snowstorm to attack us. They couldn't get a campfire going in this weather, much less an explosion. They'll be gone in a few hours, once their poor little toes start to turn numb."

But a few hours came and went, and still there was periodic banging on the door.

"How have they not exhausted themselves?" Babette groaned. "Nazir, it's time to take this a little more seriously."

"I'm afraid you're right, my girl," He said. "It seems as if they're determined to finish us here and now, snowstorm be damned."

"There hasn't been any knocking at the trapdoor. Do you think we could escape through there?"

"That's awfully risky. What if they're waiting to ambush us?"

"Who's out on a mission right now?"

"Just two of the whelps." Nazir paused to think. "And Tabby."

Babette's eyebrows shot up. "Nazir, we have to warn Tabby. If they've sent agents after her, and they manage to get to…"

"I know, I know. It's lights out for all of us." Nazir sighed. "We have to try the trap door. If they're waiting for us, we're all doomed. But it's the only way we can get a message to her."

Babette furrowed her brow now, thinking. "It'd be most prudent to just send one person," She said. "If we all try to evacuate at once, we'll draw too much attention to ourselves. So, who are we most willing to put in mortal danger?"

Nazir's gaze drifted towards the Night Mother's chamber, towards the echoes of Cicero's nasally voice as he recited a particularly headache-inducing ditty.

"You know my vote."


	13. Chapter 13: The Uninvited Guest

Balimund's promise of friendship and assistance turned out to be completely genuine. When Brotherhood business took Tabby near Riften, she would stop by and chat with him for awhile. If she had to stay overnight, he would even insist on lending her his bed, sleeping on the floor in front of the fire. This was the case now, as Tabby sat up late in Balimund's bed, tossing and turning.

The next morning she had a meeting with Maven Black-Briar, local businesswoman and the true puppet master pulling the strings of Riften. As Tabby understood it, the Brotherhood had rested deep in Maven's pocket under Astrid's leadership. It was a relationship of necessity in the Brotherhood's trying times - Maven gave them money and protection from the law, and in return the assassins were at her beck and call.

Tabby, however, was not too keen on doing some crook's bidding. The Brotherhood was not a bunch of common criminals that could be bought and sold, especially now that they were back on their feet and gaining more of their own influence by the day. They weren't like those Thieves Guild louts, after all.

It was at least midnight when the knocking started. It was persistent and rhythmic, almost as if someone was tapping out a song. Tabby hoped whoever it was would realize it was both insane and incredibly rude to come calling so late, and go away.

No such luck. The knocking turned to pounding, loud enough to wake even Balimund.

"Someone at the door?" He said sleepily. "Now?"

Tabby pushed back the covers. "Don't trouble yourself, Balimund. I'll get it."

Balimund's brow furrowed in concern. "Could be a madman…"

"I am more than a match for a madman," She said, showing him that her dagger was tucked into her robe.

His eyes were still heavy with sleep, so he merely nodded and eased himself back onto his elbows. "Be careful. I'll be right here."

She opened the door, expecting it to be a guard warning of a thief on the loose, but she had to stifle a gasp when she saw who it actually was.

" _What are you **doing** here_?" She hissed, full of malice but quiet enough that Balimund wouldn't hear.

"Oh, I knew it! I knew this was the right house! Clever Cicero could just feel it!" The jester clapped his hands in glee.

Tabby shushed him. "You need to leave. _Immediately_. Whatever it is that warranted a trip all the way here can surely wait until morning!"

"Can't, can't, surely can't! I have an important message, yes! Very important indeed!"

"Tabby? Is everything alright?" A large hand rested on her shoulder. As soon as he laid eyes on Cicero, he murmured in her ear, "Dear gods, I was right. It is a madman…"

It was then, watching Balimund and Cicero stare each other down, that Tabby began to comprehend the catastrophe that was mere seconds from occurring. She had no idea how Balimund would react if he found out she wasn't just a scout, and all it took for her cover to be blown was a slip of the tongue from a wildly unpredictable jester. She glared daggers at him, trying desperately to send him the message that his presence was not only unwelcome, but dangerous.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be totally lost on Cicero.

"So _this_ is your blacksmith friend!" He cried joyfully. "He's every bit as meaty as Cicero imagined!"

Balimund was not impressed. At all. "Do I know you?" He asked gruffly, eyeing Cicero up and down with a mixture of apprehension and disgust.

"No, no of course not! Don't be silly! I know your…friend, here. Loyal Cicero came all the way to Riften to deliver her a message!"

"We will discuss this _later_ ," Tabby said through clenched teeth.

"No, by all means," Balimund said. "Clearly this is so important it can't wait until morning."

Cicero's eyes gleamed. "Good man, good man! I love him already, Lis…"

Tabby's reproachful stare turned downright murderous, which was finally enough to stop Cicero in his tracks. His face turned serious for a split second, and Tabby could tell that at last, even through his scrambled brain, he understood: Balimund did not know.

"…little sister," Cicero recovered, earning a mouthed "thank you" from Tabby, but an eyebrow raise from Balimund.

" _This_ is your brother?" Balimund said incredulously. He looked from Tabby to Cicero and back again, trying and failing to find any kind of resemblance between the two. Tabby swallowed hard. It wasn't exactly a lie to say Cicero was her brother - that was how she had been referring to Nazir and Babette, after all - but only a blind man could think that she and a red-haired Imperial were blood siblings.

Once again, Cicero pulled through for her. "Brother in all but birth," He purred convincingly. "You see, I…ahh, we…" He faltered, throwing a questioning look Tabby's way. She instantly understood the problem: Cicero didn't know how much Balimund knew.

"Cicero's family adopted me," She continued for him. Again, not technically a lie…

"Yes, yes that's right!" Cicero jumped up and down in excitement. "Poor, sweet Tabby was left all alone, and gracious Cicero and his family took her in! And ever since she's been my itty bitty baby sister!"

They were lucky that Balimund was a fairly simple man, because their performance wouldn't have fooled many other people. But he just grunted, unamused.

"You didn't tell me you were adopted."

"It never came up."

He sighed again. "Fine. What's this message?"

Cicero sighed dramatically. "Oh, I couldn't possibly deliver it now! Cicero has come a long way, and has worn himself out with all the chit chat!"

Balimund hesitated. Tabby could tell he did not want Cicero in his house. But at long last he spoke again.

"Got an extra bedroll somewhere in the cellar."

Cicero jumped up and down in joy, and Balimund groaned as he moved to let the fool inside. Disaster had been temporarily averted, but there were still plenty more opportunities for Tabby and Cicero to make a mistake.

She volunteered to settle Cicero into the bedroll - the opportunity for the two men to be alone together had to be avoided at all costs. She poked the jester with the tip of her dagger as they descended the staircase, causing him to let up a quiet yelp.

"I hope you realize the world of trouble you're in," She seethed under her breath.

"But, Listener!" Cicero whined. "Humble Cicero was just following orders!"

"Keep your voice down," She hissed. "Whose orders?"

"Nazir's, of course! He sends a secret note." Cicero put his fingers to his lips as he danced in a circle.

"Why didn't he send it through a courier?"

"Not safe, said wise Nazir. I was commanded to deliver it personally."

"Not safe? Let me see that." Tabby grabbed the crinkled note from him and unfolded it.

 _Dearest sister,_

 _They told us that the mead delivery would arrive tomorrow. Have you received it yet? Surrounded by all the ice, it's hard to tell when the caravans will be able to pass through. Dawnstar isn't an easy place to live, that's for damn sure._

 _Stay for as long as you like when you get here. Away from the bustle of the city, you'll finally be able to relax._

 _Beware the ice outside our front door, though. Of all things, you don't want to slip and fall! Moles have been breaking up the ice, but it's still quite treacherous out there. In the spring, once the ice melts, we'll go swimming together. Riften is especially good for swimming, at least that's what I've heard._

 _With love,_

 _Your brother_

"I don't understand. This note doesn't make any sense!" If it weren't for Nazir's telltale handwriting, she wouldn't have been remiss to think that that Cicero had written it.

"Doesn't it sound…mad?" Cicero cackled. "But Nazir said that the clever Listener would understand it!"

She read it again and again, but all she saw was an awkwardly worded letter about mead and ice. She looked up at Cicero again, hoping for some kind of clue, but he merely shrugged.

"Cicero will be gone in the morning. Must get to Whiterun next."

"Whiterun? Why?"

"Nazir's orders, of course! I must stay in Whiterun until the Redguard sends for me." With that, Cicero was done talking. He burrowed into the bedroll and was asleep in seconds.

Tabby stayed up late into the night staring at that note. There was something about the wording and the way the paragraphs were broken up that didn't seem quite right, and she knew there was some kind of secret message to it. Festus or Gabriella or even Babette would have deciphered it in seconds, but Tabby wasn't that type of clever.

For some reason, she was continually drawn to the third sentence. _Surrounded by all the ice, it's hard to tell when the caravans will be able to pass through_. It just sounded so odd. The wording was entirely off. Especially the way he started the sentence.

 _Moles have been breaking up the ice, but it's still quite treacherous out there._ There were no moles in The Pale. Too cold, and the ground too frozen to tunnel.

All at once, it hit her. She quickly picked out the first words of each sentence. And there it was.

They have surrounded Dawnstar. Stay away. Beware of moles in Riften.

* * *

Tabby awoke the next morning to find Balimund out at the forge like usual, and Cicero at the cooking pot.

"Good morning, dear Listener! Porridge?"

Without an answer, she dragged him to the cellar and slammed the door.

"Not so much of a morning person, are we?"

"Quit playing around, Cicero."

"No time for games, Listener! It seems our Brotherhood is in quite the pickle."

"It's the Penitus Oculatus watching us, I assume? How many of them are there?"

"Haven't a clue! It's Nazir's little secret!"

The jester just shrugged, and Tabby rubbed her forehead in frustration. Asbjorn, Balimund's apprentice, was still asleep upstairs, but it wouldn't be long before he woke up. That left her with very little time to deal with Cicero's tendency to talk in circles. Why couldn't Nazir have sent Babette, or one of their new recruits, or _anyone_ more helpful?

But then Tabby remembered what Cicero had said about going on to Whiterun to await further orders, and then she knew exactly what was going on. Nazir was trying to smuggle people out of the Sanctuary, one at a time. His personal dislike of the jester was probably what led Nazir to banish him first.

"Did Nazir make you sneak out of the Sanctuary?"

Cicero nodded. "Oh yes, yes. By the cover of night. Out the secret entrance, too. Stern Nazir said I was to pose as a traveling minstrel if anyone should ask. I even composed a few songs to help get into character." He began to clap his hands and caper about the room. "…oh, if I chance to see a cat, I'll feed its corpse to my pet rat…"

"Focus, Cicero." It was times like these that she wished he had killed him when she had the chance.

He crashed to a halt. "Yes, yes, Listener, but I'm afraid that's all I know. I swear it."

"So, what? Are the others just holed up in the Sanctuary, hoping they can wait them out?"

"It would appear so. Not to worry. If they run out of food, they can always eat each other!"

Tabby shook her head in defeat. "That's enough. You'd best be getting on to Whiterun."

She helped the jester gather his things and walked him to the Riften stables, taking her sweet time getting back home. She knew an interrogation was waiting for her.

"You didn't tell me you were adopted," Balimund accused the moment he saw her.

Tabby had to suppress a groan. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I just like to pretend that I have a normal family, that's all."

"Well, you should have at least told me that your brother is a lunatic."

"He is the odd duck of the family, I'll give you that. I didn't know he was going to show up here. I really am sorry."

"You have a meeting today, don't you? Best get on with it," Balimund said gruffly, but he ruffled her hair as a sign of forgiveness.

As Tabby strolled to the Black-Briar Manor on a perfect Riften morning, a million darker thoughts brewed beneath her surface. Nazir had told her to stay away from Dawnstar, but the thought of her Family huddled in the Sanctuary, rations dwindling, nauseated her. Even more worrisome, he didn't specify whether there were spies in Riften, or just the possibility of spies. If there were moles planted among the townsfolk, they knew exactly who she was, and they would likely strike the moment they caught her vulnerable. She had to be vigilant.

But before she could do anything else, there was the immediate problem at hand: her impending showdown with Maven Black-Briar.

As a servant showed her into the dining room, Tabby lowered her cowl in a reluctant show of respect. Maven gave her an almost predatory grin, and Tabby knew she was thinking that she already had this in the bag.

"At long last, I meet the infamous Listener," Maven purred. "You're even prettier than your predecessor. Tell me, how does a young girl like you so quickly rise through the ranks?"

"When a young girl murders the Emperor on his own ship."

Maven's smile faltered for an instant, then was affixed stronger than ever. "I see. Well, my dear - I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Tabby."

"Well, Tabby. I'm sure you know that Astrid and I had a most fruitful partnership. I anticipate the relationship between you and I to be no different."

"Well, Maven," Tabby deadpanned. "I'm sure you know that the Brotherhood is enjoying a renaissance these days. People are whispering our names in mead halls across the province. Our coffers are overflowing. The guards fear us so much that I can walk down the street in any town in my Shrouded Armor, and no one dares try and arrest me. Tell me, Maven. How will a relationship with you be fruitful for the new Brotherhood?"

Maven maintained her smile, but now her lip curled in obvious disdain. "My, but aren't you the confident one. What's to stop me from having you thrown in jail this very instant?"

"What's to stop me from burying a blade in your stomach this very instant?"

"Is that a threat?" Maven snarled, any pretense of hospitality gone.

"I'm not trying to make an enemy out of you, Maven. If you have need of our services, you are more than welcome to perform a Black Sacrament. But the days of the Brotherhood acting as your personal assassins are gone."

"You little brat. You're going to regret this."

Tabby lifted her cowl back over her face. "Have a pleasant day, Maven."

When Tabby emerged from the manor, a wave of paranoia washed over her. How was she to know who the mole was? People came and left Riften with relative frequency. Any one of them could be paid off by the Oculatus.

Instead of going back to Balimund's forge, Tabby took a long, winding path around Riften. Making abrupt turns and venturing down abandoned alleys, she made furtive glances over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. And, alas: a bit too casually, a young Imperial man was strolling behind her.

Tabby abruptly halted. The Imperial man stopped too, pretending to be fascinated by a nearby barrel. She drew her dagger and whipped around, but he didn't even make a move for his weapon.

"Oculatus filth," She spat. "What have you done to my Family?"

"Nothing, yet," He said. "And if you come quietly, it will stay that way."

"And if I don't?"

"We've destroyed your Sanctuary once before. We're more than happy to do it again. Maybe I'll even kill the blacksmith for good measure!"

Tabby lurched forward, pinning her blade to his throat. "You leave him out of this!"

"Like I said. Give yourself up, and no one else gets hurt."

"And what if I just kill you right here?"

The agent's face turned red. "My colleagues are under orders to attack Dawnstar if they don't hear from me in three days. Face it. You're done."

Tabby laughed and shook her head. "I don't think you understand. You should be bargaining for your own life, not mine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You and I are going to take a stroll to the stables, where you're going to a post a letter to your 'colleagues' letting them know that you have me in custody and they can return to Solitude. And in return, I will let you live."

"What? No," The agent stammered. "I'm in control here. I'm calling the shots, not you!"

Tabby leaned in close, so that their faces were mere inches apart. "Do you know who you're dealing with? I can put an arrow through your brain before you even realize you're being followed," Her voice was soft, almost seductive, an unsettling contrast to the words she spoke. "I can pick the lock on your bedroom door and slit your throat while you sleep. I can even walk up to you on the street and put a knife in your stomach. You won't see me coming. You won't even have time to scream."

She pressed her blade a little harder against his neck. "And in three days? I could kill you right here and now and still make it to Dawnstar in time to pick off your friends as well."

"Don't kill me," He pleaded. Pathetic. "I'm a person, just like you. My name is Antonius Lex. I've got a wife and baby at home…"

"You think I give a rat's ass about your wife and baby?"

"Please. I'll do what you say. I'll mail the letter. You can watch. Just let me go."

So Tabby escorted him to the stables, where she watched him write and mail the false letter to Dawnstar.

"I'll be gone in the morning," He promised. "You'll never hear from us again."

"I'd better not."

His eyebrow twitched angrily. "I was supposed to make captain with your capture. I was finally going to be known and respected."

"Yes, well, we can't always get what we want, now can we?"

They parted ways, and she returned to Balimund's forge. She spent the rest of the day watching him work and listening to his stories.

"You don't mind if I spend another night here?"

Balimund smiled softly. "Stay as long as you like."

In the morning she made sure to get out to the forge when Balimund did, so she could watch the show. On cue, Keerava burst out of the Bee and Barb just after sunrise, screaming loud enough to wake the townsfolk who were still sleeping.

"By the gods, somebody help!" She screeched. "There's a killer on the loose!"

Tabby buried her face in Balimund's shoulder in what appeared to be a frightened gesture, but it was really to hide her satisfied smile. She knew she had taken a great risk, but the satisfaction was more than worth it.

"Surely you've seen death before," Balimund asked her as she pretended to weep into his shoulder.

"Death, of course. But never murder! In our own fair town!"

She knew she was laying it on thick, but truth be told she was enjoying herself. For in a minute's time the guards rushing into the inn would charge up the stairs, where they would find a body with its throat slit and its mouth stuffed with nightshade. And in a week's time the commanders of the Penitus Oculatus would be whispering Antonius Lex's name, just as he wanted. Only they would be whispering hers as well.

Poor Antonius Lex. She had told him she would spare his life, after all. It wasn't his fault he didn't know that her promise to her fallen siblings, that she would kill any Oculatus that crossed her path, took precedent over any other deal she cut.

* * *

As he and one of the new whelps struggled to both hold down the surprisingly strong devil-child and avoid her ghastly bite, Nazir cursed himself six times over for sending out the jester instead of Babette.

It had been far too long since she'd fed, and her child's body apparently couldn't handle it. She had turned into a true monster. She had nearly killed one recruit, and it was only a matter of time before she succeeded in taking a chunk of someone's flesh. As much as it pained Nazir, they had no choice but to chain her up. Babette screamed and growled and gnashed her teeth, her eyes blood red and devoid of any flicker of humanity.

In truth, the rest of them weren't much better off. The snowstorm was apparently still raging, for the agents had not yet attempted any sort of attack. But inside the Sanctuary their food and water supplies were dwindling fast, and Nazir wasn't sure what they'd do once they ran out. Which was worse: be captured, tortured, and executed by the Penitus Oculatus, or die slowly of dehydration?

They knew they were still surrounded because every morning, midday, and night they'd hear the Black Door croak its ancient question before echoes of "You are not worthy," filled the halls. Their enemies were still trying to get in, but at this rate even if they did all they'd find would be a handful of dead bodies and one rabid vampire.

Days passed, unless it was weeks. Nazir honestly couldn't say. Even with a few companions, he could now understand why Cicero went mad. All there was to do was wait, and worry. Especially about Tabby. He hoped to Sithis she had the sense to keep a low profile and not talk to any strangers passing through town. If they got to her, it was over.

Then one morning, the Black Door was silent. Afternoon came and went - not a word. By dinnertime, everyone was crowded around the door, just in case they hadn't been able to hear it earlier. But midnight came and went, and still it was quiet.

"Perhaps someone should go out there, to investigate?" One of the newcomers suggested timidly.

"Are you volunteering?"

"Me? Why, uh…but it could be a trap!"

"What if we send Babette out there?" A female recruit said. "She's tough to kill, and she does need a meal…"

 _Very carefully_ Nazir and the woman recruit unshackled Babette and took her by the arms, dragging her through the halls of the Sanctuary as she howled. Another neophyte opened the Black Door just enough for them to toss Babette outside before slamming it shut.

For a few sickening minutes they heard screaming and the tearing of flesh. Then all fell silent.

Gingerly Nazir opened the door. Babette sat on the ground, smiling sweetly up at them with her usual brown pupils and a face covered in blood.

"Everything alright, my girl?" He asked.

"I'm feeling much better now," She cooed, picking up a stray bone to gnaw on. "I was just _famished_!

"How many were there?"

"Just two. The camp was mostly abandoned. What do you suppose happened to the rest?"

"Got called off, perhaps? But why?"

"The Listener must have done something to stop them. I knew she would!"

She turned out to be right. Before the week was out, Tabby turned up in the Sanctuary, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

"I have a feeling they won't be bothering us much anymore," She said. "Not if they don't want their field agents to keep having accidents."

"Do we want to send a message?" Nazir asked. "Invade one of their outposts, perhaps?"

"Someday," Tabby said. "I'm not sure we quite have the manpower just yet. But we will. And then the Oculatus will face their judgement day."


	14. Chapter 14: The Departure

Once the Oculatus threat had been neutralized, life returned to normal. But that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Tabby was restless. She knew it. Nazir knew it. Babette knew it. Running the Sanctuary was both challenging and fulfilling, to be sure. She was constantly thinking of how to better rebuild the Brotherhood, about what decisions were best for the group. It was a massive amount of responsibility, to be sure, a responsibility she was honored to bear.

And yet, something was missing. She did not yet feel whole.

Nazir noticed this one evening as they were going over a new batch of contracts. Perhaps she seemed distracted, or disheartened.

"You don't like being cooped up in here, do you?"

Tabby sighed. "Not really. But that's not all of it. I do like running the Brotherhood, and communing with the Night Mother. I just feel like…there's something out there. Something I'm supposed to be doing.

Nazir was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he asked:

"Where is your family?"

Tabby was taken aback. "I have no idea. I've never given them much thought."

"And why is that?"

"My parents abandoned me. Worse than that, they sold me off like cattle." Tabby could feel the anger rising inside her. "I had a horrific childhood because of them. They don't deserve any of my thought."

"Perhaps not. But then again, perhaps if you found out what happened to them, it would bring you peace."

Nazir was right. Though she talked a good game, at the back of her mind it was always eating at her.

The Redguard continued. "Your heritage is important to you. There must be a part of you that wants to know exactly where you come from."

He knew her far too well at this point.

"But even if I do find them, how could I ever face them?"

"Think of it this way. If you find out they're dead, then good riddance. If you find them alive, then you can make them pay for their crimes."

He was right. Still, Tabby hesitated. "But I have no idea where to even begin."

"You don't know where you were born?"

Tabby shook her head. "I was so young, Nazir. I have only distant memories of my life before."

"Is there anything you can remember? Any images?"

Tabby squinted, trying to reach deep into her memory. "Stone. Lots of stone, everywhere I looked."

"In a city, or the wilderness?"

"A city. I remember running up a set of enormous stone steps. They seemed to go on forever, and reach into the clouds."

"Don't fault me if I'm wrong," Nazir said. "But if you ask me, that sounds a lot like Markarth."

Tabby had only been to the outskirts of Markarth, to meet a client, and then only under the cover of night. She really knew nothing of the Reach nor of its capital, besides its reputation for unchecked violence and corruption.

"I suppose you're right," She said. "But can you all manage without me?"

"Operations-wise, we'll be just fine," Nazir said. "Getting the contracts may be a bit difficult, but now that we've got a few new members we'll have a better time of it."

"I'll speak with the Night Mother and see if there's any arrangement that can be made."

Tabby kicked Cicero out of the Night Mother's chamber before placing her hands on the cold steel coffin and bowing her head.

"Sweet Mother, I need your help," Tabby murmured.

Silence. "Please, hear my words."

 _I sense your longing, child._ The sinister, yet utterly sublime rasp of the Night Mother curled around Tabby, wrapping her in its icy embrace. Y _ou wish to leave this Sanctuary, so that you may travel the land. So that you may search._

"Yes, Mother," Tabby whispered in adoration. "You understand me."

 _You search for those who brought you into this world. But I wonder, why do you forsake your true Family in the name of the family who abandoned you?_

"I'm not forsaking anyone," Tabby protested. "I need to discover this part of myself. It will make me a better Listener, in the end."

A beat of silence. _You seek answers. Closure. Why did they condemn you to a childhood of suffering?_

Tabby wondered how the Night Mother knew all this about her. Then again, she perhaps shouldn't be surprised that a talking corpse was also all-knowing.

 _I know you need this. It will help you grow. To move on. And so I will help you. I will find you even in the farthest reaches of this forbidding province, and I will whisper the contracts in your ear, so that my beloved Listener may repair her injured soul._

It was done. Tabby could leave Dawnstar with a clear conscience, knowing that she could still receive the contracts and send them by mail to Nazir. And so Tabby hoisted her bow and satchel over her shoulder, and left the Dawnstar Sanctuary to begin the long journey west. Though it would take much longer, she would not be hiring a carriage for this trip. This was a pilgrimage she needed to take on foot.

* * *

After several days of journeying, she found herself in the outskirts of the Whiterun tundras and realized she had drifted a bit further south than she had intended. No matter; she loved the harsh grasslands and a day spent hunting here couldn't hurt.

…Except a day quickly turned into a week. It had been a good while since she had gone on a proper hunting trip, and she had forgotten how at home she felt in the wilderness. She ate part of what she killed and traded the rest for arrows and torches. She drank and bathed from small streams and rivers, and every night pitched a fire and unrolled her bedroll in a bush or under a rock overhang, so as to be hidden from predators.

One night, the Night Mother came to her in a dream, whispering the names and locations of those who had prayed the Black Sacrament. In the morning Tabby wrote them down in code and walked to the nearest road, so she could give the paper to the first courier she saw.

On the seventh day, just after sunrise, Tabby was crouched in a bush, bow drawn, watching an elk drink lazily from the stream. Its antlers plus the abundance of meat could keep her going for a long time to come, and she wanted to make sure she got the shot perfect. But as she flexed her fingers, preparing to release the arrow, the elk collapsed to ground with an agonized cry.

" _Damn it_!" Tabby shouted as she stormed from the bush, ready to murder the hunter who had stolen her kill. "That was _my_ …"

She trailed off, for it wasn't one of the usual Nord hunters she had grown used to seeing around the tundra. Instead, a pair of Khajiit appeared on the other side of the elk, blinking at her with confused but friendly eyes.

"I think the Nord-child was also taking aim at the great deer," One said to the other in the smooth, quiet accent of the Khajiit. The voice sounded male, and he was indeed taller than the other, with grey fur and large green eyes.

Tabby just stared at them. The only Khajiit she had seen in person was a caravan guard she had shot from afar on a contract, and the sight of two giant cats up close, wearing armor and speaking like humans, was a bit overwhelming.

"What troubles you, Nord-child? Cat got your tongue?" The smaller Khajiit, a female, asked mockingly. She was orange with darker stripes, and more lightly armored than her companion. Strangely, though, she had long flowing hair around her face - perhaps a mane?

"I'm not a child," Tabby said indignantly.

"Not a child," The female repeated to the man. "But it's small for a Nord. Perhaps it has something else in its blood?"

"It's rude to talk about people like they aren't there," Tabby said.

The female smiled at Tabby. Or perhaps she was baring her teeth. A reassurance, or a threat. "Forgive us, Nord…woman. It is simply how the Khajiit converse."

"We haven't even made our introductions," The male said. "Speaking of rude." He grasped Tabby's hands gently in his paws. They were weathered and tough, but the tufts of fur between his digits were heavenly soft. "Kharjo, at your humble service. And this one is Kijjan," He said with a nod towards the female.

"My name is Tabby," She said, prompting laughter from the Khajiit. Their mouths spread wide, their whole torsos heaved as strange, almost wheezing sounds erupted from them - " _Hehehehehe_."

"She's a cat!" Kijjan said to Kharjo between laughs. "Like us!"

"Why hide your face, Tabby-cat?" Kharjo asked after catching his breath. "Are you deformed?"

Tabby wasn't sure how she felt about Khajiit so far. "No. I prefer to be anonymous."

"So serious, the Nord-woman," Kharjo said to Kijjan. "Where is this one going?" He said with a nod Tabby's way.

"Markarth."

Kijjan's eyes narrowed. "Markarth is a horrid place. Why would anyone want to go there, when there are many other more agreeable places to go?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Ah! A searcher. Just like me. That is why this one hired Kharjo."

"You hired him? You didn't know each other before?"

"Correct. The Nord lands are lonely, especially for a Khajiit. Much better to have one of your own kind to keep you company."

"And keep you alive," Kharjo added.

"So what are _you_ searching for?"

"Many things. But at the same time, nothing."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you take it to mean," Kijjan said with another unsettling grin.

Tabby sighed. She had much better things to be doing than talking in circles with two Khajiit. "I'd best be going. Markarth is still a long ways away."

The Khajiit were quiet, both staring into Tabby's eyes. She thought about walking away. But then Kijjan said, "For someone who walks in the darkness, there is much light within you."

Tabby was floored. "What?"

"Enough talk. You said you must go."

"Wait!" Kharjo interrupted, digging around in a pocket. "This one looks like she needs a trinket."

"One of the things we search for is treasure," Kijjan explained. "Gleamy trinkets to sell to the Nord folk. This is how we keep our bellies full."

"I can't afford…"

"No, no. No need to pay among friends. Take it," He said, pressing a gleaming ruby into Tabby's gloved hands.

She turned it over in her palm. "I can't take this. You could get hundreds of Septims for this in Whiterun."

"Tis just a trinket. There will be many more." Kharjo said simply.

"But…"

"Hush, now. Our other gift is a helpful hint: when you meet the half-elf, worry not. You can trust him. And you should." Tabby opened her mouth, but Kijjan waved her away. "We go now. We have much searching to accomplish. Goodbye for now, Tabby-cat," She and Kharjo gathered their equipment. "The moons have told us our paths will cross again."

"Wait!" Tabby called after them, but they either didn't hear or chose not to respond. All she could do was watch as the pair of Khajiit shrank further and further into the tundra. When she finally turned away, she realized that they had left behind the entire elk.

Their meeting was by far one of the strangest things to happen to her in Skyrim. She wasn't sure she particularly liked the Khajiit, but they had left her a precious gem and a whole elk. Yet Kijjan's words left Tabby unsettled. What she had said about the light and the darkness just didn't seem like it could be a coincidence. And what was she going on about the 'half-elf?'

It was time to leave the tundra before anything stranger happened. Her week of hunting had been a nice reprieve, but Markarth was calling to her stronger than ever.

A few hours out of Rorikstead Tabby had to stop, not out of exhaustion but of awe. For ahead of her the wild, craggy highlands of the Reach rose out of the mist to greet her. It was beautiful, just in a very different way from the calm of the pine forests or the vastness of the tundras or the glimmering light of the Fall Forest. The jagged mountains, the small gnarled trees, the thundering Karth river were harsh, forbidding, untamed. It was then that she felt a pull unlike any she had felt before, even stronger than the moment she had first set foot in Skyrim. And then she knew, with every inch of her being, that this was where she had come from. The Reach, the wildest, bloodiest, most conflicted region of Skyrim, was her ancestral home.


	15. Chapter 15: Blood and Silver

_A/N: Content warning for this chapter - allusions/vague depictions of sexual assault (not graphic)_

* * *

Tabby was so overtaken by the highlands before her that she had no time to react to the arrow that whizzed past her, missing her face by mere inches. She whipped around to see a crazed looking man, in primitive tribal clothes and a bone headdress, taking aim at her from a rock ledge. A woman in similar, yet skimpier apparel came barreling out of a nearby mine, screaming, "Die at the hands of the Forsworn, Nord!"

Ah. So these were the Madmen of the Reach that everyone liked to go on about. Lucky for her, their armor left them laughably exposed, and it was quick work picking them off with her own bow.

The Forsworn didn't scare her. But all the same, perhaps it wasn't prudent to linger out in the open for longer than she had to. Besides, Markarth wasn't far now, and she was anxious to see what she could discover about her past.

Soon the great and notorious stone city loomed large in front of her, but as she approach the front gate the guards stopped her.

"Just a second there, stranger," One said suspiciously. "I'm not sure I like the looks of you. Look like you could cause some trouble, and trouble ain't something we need more of in Markarth."

For once, her cowl appeared to be working against her. Tabby pulled it back with a sigh, showing the guards her face. "I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just a weary traveler who could use a bed and a pint of mead."

The guards looked at each other, then back at her. "What's a young, pretty Nord girl doing with armor like that?"

"She's _fine,_ " Drawled the other guard. "Lightly armored means light on your feet. That's right smart."

"Is there a problem?" Tabby asked, struggling to keep her voice polite. "Am I being denied entry?"

"No…go on in," The first guard said. "But I mean it, girl. You may be a Nord, but you're still an outsider. You better not make trouble."

"What a warm welcome," Tabby muttered under her breath, but thankfully the guards were too busy opening the gate to hear her. Perhaps it would serve her well to keep her cowl down in the city, given how the guards reacted.

The main gate swung open to reveal a small open air market, surrounded by massive stone buildings. It all looked terribly familiar. Tabby paused a moment to take it all in, trying desperately to recall any early memories of this place. That is, until she noticed a peasant sneaking up behind an Imperial woman with his dagger drawn.

She probably could have stopped him. She was close enough that she likely could have run and tackled him before he cut deeply enough to kill. But that would have spoiled all the fun. So instead she watched as he messily slit her throat with a cry of, "The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!" before being swiftly put down by the guards.

Tabby shook her head. So sloppy. Although if his whole goal was to make a political point, he certainly achieved it. The entire market set into a panic, with people yelping about Forsworn agents in the city and the guards trying their best to assure the rabble that it was just a common madman. As she stood there, taking it all in, a man approached her.

"Gods. A woman attacked right on the streets. Are you alright? Did you see what happened?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Tabby said coldly, already regretting her choice to keep her face exposed. She was sure this man wouldn't have approached her if she looked more dangerous.

"I'm glad to hear it. I just hope the Eight give you more peace in the future…" He said as he not so subtly dropped a folded piece of paper. "Oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important."

Tabby scoffed. "You couldn't be a little more obvious?"

The man just shrugged. "Not sure what you mean, friend. This must have just fallen out of your pocket."

She picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it in front of him, keeping one eye on the man as she read it.

 _Meet me at the Shrine of Talos._

"Oh no," She said. "No, no. I am not getting involved in this. You've got the wrong person."

Surprisingly, the man didn't look too put off. "Suit yourself. I like to take time to meditate at the shrine every evening at ten, if you change your mind." And without another word he walked away.

What a start to her visit. She didn't regret in the slightest her refusal to help the man. She could tell this ran a lot deeper than a random murder, and she wasn't about to get involved in affairs she knew nothing about.

Even with her cowl off, people were still eyeing her suspiciously. Perhaps it was time to shed her armor entirely. Tabby walked into the nearby inn and put a few coins down for a room. She was dead tired after her long journey, and when she saw that even the beds were made out of stone all she could do was remove her armor and climb in anyway, not even caring that she was sleeping before the sun had even set.

No whispers from the Night Mother that night. That was fine with Tabby; she slept better that way. She slumbered straight through the evening and didn't awaken until early the next morning. Instead of putting her armor on again, she changed into the one plain dress she had packed. Hopefully now people would stop staring at her, or asking her for help.

She spent the day wandering the city, trying to find anything that would bring back a repressed childhood memory. She quickly figured out the general divide in Markarth: Nords on the rich side of the city, Reachmen in the poor end. Tabby walked straight to the Nord side; there was no reason to bother herself with the dirty, dangerous witchmen. She wasn't sure what she would find, but even if neither of her parents still lived in Markarth there was surely another family that knew what had happened to them.

The first Nord she spoke to was the portly man running the meat stall in the marketplace. He was mostly concerned with whether or not she was going to buy some meat, and was less than enthusiastic when it became clear that she just wanted to talk.

"You're looking for your parents, but you don't know their names. Priceless." He said.

"You must know everyone in the city. Wouldn't you have heard about a man leaving Markarth with his daughter and returning without her?"

"Look, girl. After you've been in Markarth for a few years you learn to not get attached. Most folks that can leave, do, and the ones that are left don't tend to last long. The kids get sick, or they fall into the river or off a ledge. The adults run off to join the Forsworn, or they get thrown into Cidhna Mine, or -" he paused, gesturing at the spot where the woman's body had been laying just yesterday. "They get slaughtered in the middle of the street. I've learned exactly one thing here in Markarth, and it's that the only thing I can afford to worry about is who's buying my meat and who isn't."

Discouraged, Tabby wandered up the uneven hill, ignoring the Vigilant of Stendarr trying to catch her eye. Instead, she turned to a brute of a Nord leaning against a wall.

"Bloody enough for you, outsider?"

She paused, startled. Tabby considered keeping up her innocent traveler act, but something about this man told her she should answer honestly. So she fixed an evil smile on her face, the one she used when she was taunting a kill, and said, "More blood is always better."

The Nord man raised his eyebrows in approval. "Then you've found your home, friend. Blood and silver are what flows through Markarth. Welcome."

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

"They call me Yngvar the Singer. I came here from the Bards' College about two years ago. Turns out a few muscles earn more gold than a damn lute. The Silver-Bloods pay me, let me crack a few skulls, and keep the guards off my back. That's all I need."

"I keep hearing the Silver-Blood name. They must be an important family."

"Hah! Important? They own half the city. Half the Reach, probably. The silver mine is theirs, filled with prisoners to dig up their ore. They've got the guard snug in their pocket. Nothing in this city happens without checking with the Silver-Bloods first." He stopped to look her up and down. "Are you going to tell me your name?"

"Tabby."

"And where might you be from, Tabby?"

"That's…a complicated question."

"I've got nothing but time."

"I was born here. Grew up in Cyrodiil. Got family in Dawnstar. Now I'm back here trying to find out what became of my parents."

"What were their names?"

"That's just it. I don't know. And Tabby's not the name I was born with. I have no idea what it was."

"Well, that's a tough lot you've got there." Yngvar said. "Lucky for you, I happen to like you. This is a rare happening; you should feel honored. So I'm going to keep my ears open. Ask around a bit. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Who would've known that a fellow bloodthirsty Nord would become her first friend in this strange city. "I appreciate it, Yngvar. Thank you."

"Yngvar." An authoritative voice said behind Tabby. She turned to come face to face with a balding Nord dressed in expensive fabrics. This, Tabby assumed, had to be a Silver-Blood.

"What is it, Thonar?" Yngvar asked gruffly, but Thonar wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was blatantly ogling Tabby, his eyes traveling up and down every inch of her. All she could do was stand there uncomfortably; she wasn't about to upset one of the most important men in Markarth.

"And who is your companion?" He said at last.

"This is Tabby. She's an outsider, but she's alright."

"A pleasure to meet you, Tabby. Thonar Silver-Blood, as I'm sure you already know." He said by means of an introduction, kissing her hand gently. "And what brings you to my city?"

"I was born here. I've come back to look for my parents."

"Well, the best of luck in your search. Yngvar, we have a business matter to discuss." The two men turned to walk away, but Thonar turned back. "I do hope to be seeing more of you soon."

The rest of the day passed with no more leads, and no more friendly faces. Most people in Markarth did not appreciate a stranger wandering their streets, and Tabby returned to her room empty-handed. But just as she was about to prepare for bed, Yngvar appeared in her doorway.

"Thonar Silver-Blood sent me. He wants to see you."

* * *

Tabby had never seen so much wealth in one place, and it made her even more nervous than she already was. She had noticed the way Thonar was looking at her earlier in the day, and now he looked positively smug as she stood before him.

She had a feeling where this was going. And she didn't like it.

"I'm so sorry to hear your parents are missing," He said, with an impressive display of false sympathy. "It just breaks my heart that such a pretty girl could know such tragedy."

What would happen if she killed him? He'd go down without a fight; he was soft as ox dung. Now that would really shake things up in Markarth.

"Thank you for your sympathy," She said tensely.

"I consider myself quite the philanthropist, you know. So when Yngvar told me your story, I was dying to help. I can get a lot of information very quickly, you know. It comes with having power."

If she darted forward and stabbed him in the heart, he'd die pretty quietly. She could walk right out of there, and no one would discover what happened until it was too late to catch her.

She was tempted to respond with, "Yes, as the head of the Dark Brotherhood I'm quite used to having eyes and ears at my command." But instead she just gave him a small smile. That was all the egging on he needed.

"But of course, if I help you…"

"You'd expect some _help_ in return." She finished bitterly.

Thonar's eyes gleamed. "You're a smart one," He said. "But really, this deal is in your favor. Because the help wouldn't stop at just information. You can ask any of my previous mistresses; to say I treat them well is an understatement.

Tabby's nose wrinkled in disgust. Why were men such pigs?

"Aren't you married?"

This elicited a laugh. "Of course I am! Have you met my wife? You'd understand if you did. Disagreeable cow of a woman."

"And if I refuse your offer?

"You'll find that life in Markarth will become exceedingly more difficult for you. Perhaps even…cut short. But come now," He said, stroking her cheek as she used every bit of willpower to not flinch. "Think of what I can give you. Gold. Fine clothes and jewels. A lovely place to stay. And, of course, help with your little quest. I can tell you're a smart girl, Tabby. Make the right choice."

In spite of herself, she started to shake. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to be how her first time with a man would go. Hadn't she escaped from Cyrodiil precisely so that something like this _wouldn't_ happen?

"What's wrong, girl? It's not cold in here," Thonar paused then, a look of understanding coming over his face. "You're a virgin."

Tabby said nothing, angry tears springing to her eyes.

"Tell me. Are you?"

Staring sullenly at the ground, she said, "I've never been with a man."

He grinned sickeningly. "And I thought this couldn't get any better. Well, you're in luck. At the present moment, you're of better use to me if you stay that way." Still, he grabbed her hips and brought his face inches from hers. "Doesn't mean we still can't have a spot of fun, though."

She had to kill him. He left her no other options. Her hand moved to her waist - and found nothing. Because, _like an idiot,_ she had left the Blade of Woe and her bow sitting on top of her neatly folded armor in the Silver-Blood Inn.

If she tried to flee, he would have her killed. It was better to live and fight another day.

Thonar roughly tugged her dress off. He stood back for a moment, lecherous eyes scanning her body.

"Where is your wife?" Tabby asked as he led her to the bedroom.

"Visiting her sister in Solitude. Quite convenient," He said with a lecherous smile. "In the morning I'll set you up in your own house, so our little meetings stay secret. We don't want a scandal, after all."

"No, we couldn't have that."

She prayed to the Night Mother, to Sithis, to anyone who was willing to listen, to strike him dead. But no reprieve came.

It didn't matter that he didn't force her to have sex with him. It was still awful. She had never wanted something like this to happen again. She couldn't go through this again. It was too much to bear.

So she closed her eyes and floated up and away, out of her body that was being kissed and touched by this disgusting man. Far, far away, to the grand oak tree where eight year old Tabby lay in the sweet-smelling grass and watched the sunlight filter through the leaves.

He kicked her out early the next morning, before his wife was due to arrive home. "I'll send for you by the end of the day. I'll have your living arrangements squared away by then. Have fun playing investigator, my dear." He said smugly, grabbing her ass as he sent her out the door.

The first thing she had to do was return to the room she rented at the inn so she could have a long cry. That violation hurt more than any physical injury she had sustained. It hurt her soul. She thought discovering her birthplace would be a new awakening. Instead, everything had gone to hell in the past twenty-four hours.

After an hour, she finally sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Amidst her pain and despair, there was a tiny ember of anger inside her. So she reached deep inside and let that anger burn.

Anger was the key to her survival. It gave her agency, purpose. And it reminded her of the power she still held.

She still had a wonderful and terrible gift. She was not just the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, but the living representation of the word of Sithis. No matter what he did, Thonar could never take that away from her.

She entered the inn that morning as a scared and ashamed young woman. But she left it as the Listener.


	16. Chapter 16: The Revelation

Now that she found herself in Thonar's clutches, so to speak, Tabby was more motivated than ever to find her parents and get out of this town. Only this town seemed more reluctant than ever to give up any sort of clue to their whereabouts.

It occurred to her to check the Hall of the Dead. It was a long-shot, but perhaps there was a name, a bust, a death date that would jog some deep-seated memory of her parents.

This proved to be more difficult than she thought. A priest of Arkay stood blocking the door, arms crossed and lips pursed in displeasure.

"The Hall of the Dead is closed. Jarl's orders."

"Closed? Why?"

"That's confidential. Just know that it's closed for a reason. Now run along, miss."

Tabby drew closer to him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She batted her eyelashes and let a small smile spread across her lips.

"You seem stressed," She purred. "I could help you. If you just tell me why the Hall is closed."

The priest hesitated. "We've discovered that some of the dead have been... eaten. Flesh has been chewed off, bones were snapped to get at the marrow inside."

Tabby's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"That's what I thought. Pretty young girl doesn't need to be concerning herself with such gruesome matters."

Tabby gestured at the Blade of Woe strapped to her hip. She made sure to remember it this morning - she wouldn't be making that mistake again. "It must be some kind of animal, right? I can take care of it."

"Alright," The priest said cautiously. "But be careful in there. I don't want to explain to the townsfolk why I let one of the living be eaten, too."

He opened the ancient stone door, and it swung shut behind her as she entered the Hall of the Dead. The priest had been telling the truth - some of the fresh burials had been dug up, their bones strewn everywhere. The entire place reeked of rotting flesh.

Tabby pulled the collar of her dress up over her nose. All she had to do was find the animal, kill it, and look for her parent's graves before she passed out from the fumes.

 _Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear. I feel the hunger inside of you. Gnawing at you._

Where in Oblivion was that voice coming from? It seemed to be coming from beyond their realm, like the Night Mother, but this wasn't her Mistress's voice. This voice was far more seductive…and far more disturbing.

 _You see the dead and your mouth grows wet. Your stomach growls. It's all right. I will not shun you for what you are. Stay. I will tell you everything you have forgotten._

Hell. No. Tabby spun on her heel to flee whatever malevolent spirit had set its eyes on her, only to come face to face with a very mortal woman.

"You were young when you first tasted human flesh, weren't you?" The woman took a step towards Tabby, who took a reactionary step back. "A brother or sister had died? An accident, of course. Then the hunger set in. Curiosity. What's the harm in just one bite? It's okay, now. You've found a friend who understands you. You can let go of your guilt."

The woman took another step towards Tabby. Her hand flew to the Blade of Woe, but didn't draw it quite yet. "You've got it all wrong," Tabby said. "I've spilled a lot of blood. But to do what you're suggesting…that would be a serious transgression in the eyes of Sithis."

"A lot of our kind block out the memory of their first meal. The shame is too much. But you don't need to hide anymore. Namira, the Lady of Decay, accepts you for what you are. Forsake your Sithis. Our Lady has a place for us, where we can sate our appetites without judgment."

Tabby hesitated for a moment. Could she possibly be telling the truth? In the trials and traumas of her childhood, had there been some things so awful, so repulsive that she had blocked them out completely?

She shook her head vigorously, as if physically brushing off the doubt. She was a fool for letting that woman get into her head, even for just a moment. Even if it was true, anyone who was telling her to forsake Sithis in favor of a Daedric Lord did not have her best interests at heart.

"This ends now," Tabby said, finally drawing her blade. "Your tricks won't work on me."

The woman's seductive gaze dropped into a hateful, almost crazed snarl. "To Oblivion with you then!" She screamed, lunging at Tabby with her bare hands.

She was clearly out of her mind if she wasn't even bothering to draw a weapon. But as the crazed woman's hands wrapped around her throat, Tabby was met with an unbearable jolt of frost. As quickly as she could, she buried her blade into the woman's stomach and twisted, hard.

The woman fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and was still.

Tabby could feel that her throat was badly frostbitten. She needed a potion. And she needed to get out of this Hall, immediately. Forget looking for her parents' corpses. She wasn't about to wait around to find out if any other cannibals were lurking around the corner.

She blew by the priest of Arkay, ignoring his calls after her. Spilling back into the sunlight, she staggered to the market. Not that she really expected anyone to help her.

But it seemed Sithis was smiling upon her. Kerah, the jeweler, took pity on her.

"By Dibella, what happened to y _ou_?"

"What hasn't happened to me?" Tabby groaned. She gestured to her neck. "Do you know where I can get this looked at?"

"Go on down to the Hag's Cure," The jeweler suggested. "It's on the Riverside, next to Ghorza's forge. Bothela's a strange old crone, but she'll fix you right up."

The Hag's Cure. It didn't sound promising, especially given the fact that so far she couldn't go anywhere without some kind of bizarre danger befalling her. Still, it seemed like she had little choice.

Still holding her throat, she made her way to the secluded alchemy shop, where she discovered a ghost from her past: Muiri, her very first client, was working the counter. But Tabby wasn't wearing her armor, and so - perhaps thankfully - the girl didn't recognize her.

"Hit with a frost spell, eh? We've got just the thing! Cheap, too!" Muiri seemed much happier now as she exchanged a small bottle for a few of Tabby's coins. Tabby knocked the whole bottle back, and instantly felt the sickening cold sensation subside.

"Bothela!" Muiri called towards the back room. "It looks like we're running low on Jazbay!"

"Nonsense, girl," Tabby turned to see an exceptionally old Reachwoman hobble towards them. "I'm sure I saw some…" She stopped in her tracks when she locked eyes with Tabby, her face registering pure shock.

"Eilis?"

Tabby looked around the shop. Then she realized the crone was talking to her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Eilis. After all this time, I'd still recognize you anywhere."

Tabby cast a confused glance at Muiri, who looked equally lost.

"Was…Eilis my name?" She asked softly. A strange feeling came over her. It was not a very Nordic name. It wasn't right.

Bothela's face fell a bit. "You don't remember me, do you child?"

Tabby shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't have any memories of Markarth. Only a feeling that this is my homeland."

Bothela looked at her with a sad smile. "But of course. You were so small when your father took you away. I've never forgiven him for that. What name do you go by now?"

"It's Tabby."

"Well, Eilis, Tabby, whatever you call yourself. I can't tell you how full my heart is. I had given up on seeing you again long ago."

"But how…"

"How do we know each other? Oh, child. I'm your grandmother."

The look of shock on Tabby's face must have been so exaggerated as to be comical, because Bothela laughed heartily. "You thought you were pure Nord, didn't you?"

"I _am_ pure Nord," She said indignantly. "You must have me confused for somebody else."

The old woman just smiled and shook her head. "You do look remarkably like your mother, make no mistake. Most people wouldn't be able to tell you have anything other than Nord blood in you. But think about it, dear. Look beyond your pale skin and blue eyes. Aren't you a little smaller than most Nord women? Aren't your cheekbones a bit higher? Doesn't the cold bother you just a bit more than it should?"

Tabby stammered, trying to think of any possible way the hag could be wrong.

Bothela chuckled. "Time to face the facts, granddaughter. Your mother was the purest Nord there was. Blonde hair, blue eyes, buxom figure - all of it. But your father was full Reachman. And that, my dear, makes you half."

Tabby looked Bothela square in the eyes. Perhaps there was something there. Something that they shared. The cheekbones, or perhaps the nose. Or maybe it was just the way she carried herself. No matter what it was, Tabby could see how it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she was related to this woman. The shock and indignation of discovering her Reachman ancestry faded a bit, for here, standing right in front of her, was her grandmother. The first blood relative she had ever met. For better or worse, she wasn't completely alone in this province after all.

"I'll admit, though. I have no idea where your black hair came from," Bothela continued. "On my side you descend from a long line of chestnut-haired folk."

"Where are they now?" She asked.

Bothela sighed. "Your parents, you mean? I was afraid you were going to ask that. The beginning of your story is not a happy one, dear."

"I need to hear it. I need to know."

"Very well. You see, your mother came from one of the poor Nord families in town. No education, no job, and no hope. She was barely sixteen when she fell pregnant by your father. He was ten years older than her and worked at the smelter, just like all the other Reachmen who aren't either Forsworn or in jail."

"Did they get married?"

Bothela shook her head. "From what your father said, it was supposed to be one night of passion. Then suddenly he had a child on the way. Then, he had a child in his arms, and no mother to raise her with."

"You mean…"

"Your mother died a few hours after you were born. I tried to save her, but there was just so much blood. It was really a shame. She was a nice girl."

It was all starting to make sense now. Her father had never wanted her in the first place. Of course he had no qualms about selling her off.

"So what became of my father?"

Bothela's lip curled. "My son was a drunk and a gambler and a general waste of space, and he got even worse after you were born. I took care of you for most of that time." Now she smiled. "You were a quiet child, a joy to have in my house. Until one day - you'd just turned five. He came to my shop to pick you up, saying he was taking you on a trip to Falkreath." Her voice cracked. "If I had known what he was going to do, I never would have let you go!"

"And that was when he took me to be sold."

"Yes," Bothela wiped at one eye with her sleeve. "I refused to speak with him after that. Selling you bought him time, but not much of it. Eventually his debts became so great that there were threats against his life. He fled to the wilderness to join the Forsworn, not out of idealism but out of desperation. I have no idea what became of him in the end. He's probably dead, and good riddance."

A lump formed in Tabby's throat. "So not only am I the daughter of a pathetic excuse for a man, but I'm the daughter of a terrorist."

Bothela narrowed her eyes. "Listen, child. I've lost many a loved one to the Forsworn. They are misguided, in both ideology and methods. They're pillaging in the name of a past that was over long ago. But they just want our homelands back. You can't deny there's a certain nobility to that."

"But Skyrim…"

Bothela's eyes and voice grew sharp. "If you finish that sentence with, 'is for the Nords' I'll smack you across the face."

Tabby shut her mouth, embarrassed, as her grandmother continued.

"These were our lands. We were here first. And when the uprising came, we ruled over them peacefully. The Nords are oppressors in the Reach, girl. They see us as nothing more than savages, and they go to any length to keep us down. So yes, be proud of being a Nord. They are a strong and brave people. But you also must know what your Nords have done to your other people."

This was a lot to take in all at once, even for a Listener. But Bothela wasn't done with her yet.

"So, granddaughter. Tell me what these past twelve years have done to you."

She wasn't in nearly a state to tell Bothela the whole story now. Not when her entire sense of being had been thrust upside down. "My father sold me to a terrible man," She said. "Who did terrible things to me. Then one day I escaped. I lived on my own for awhile. Then I came to Skyrim. Now I have a new family."

Bothela opened her mouth, probably to ask Tabby to elaborate, but just then the door swung open. All three women in the room turned to see who it was.

And all three glared when they saw it was Yngvar.

"Come to extort more from a defenseless old woman?" Bothela hissed.

The huge Nord shook his head. "I'm here for her," He said, pointing at Tabby. "He wants to see you."

Muiri's eyes widened. "Oh, don't tell me he's gotten you too…"

With a deep breath Tabby walked to join Yngvar's side. "Goodbye, grandmother," She said. "Thank you for everything."

"You've got some nerve," She said bitterly to Yngvar as soon as they were outside. "You pretend to befriend me, only to hand me over to that disgusting pig?"

"I didn't know that was going to happen!" Yngvar protested. "Honest, I didn't. If I had known…"

"I'm going to tell you something, Yngvar," Tabby said. "Do you know why I think more blood is better?"

"You're a mercenary," He said.

"No. I command a group of assassins. People hire us to murder their enemies. We run quite the business."

"Like the Dark Brotherhood?"

" _Exactly_ like the Dark Brotherhood."

Yngvar stopped in his tracks. "You're…one of those? _You_?"

She gave him another one of her terrible smiles, and she could see his Adam's apple quiver.

"But…look at you."

"What about me?"

"I thought you all had been killed. Stamped out by the Empire."

"Obviously not."

"You're a madwoman. Almost as bad as the Forsworn."

"You can call me what you like, but remember that not only am I a trained killer, I have a legion of assassins at my disposal. Thonar got a lot more than he bargained for."

So maybe 'legion' was a bit of an exaggeration, but Yngvar didn't have to know that.

"Makes perfect sense you were born here," He said. "Markarth breeds a special kind of bloodthirstiness. And insanity."

Before Tabby could ask him what he meant, Thonar came into sight. He was standing on the steps of a house smaller than his own, and he gestured to the two Nords.

"Thank you, Yngvar," He said with a sickening smile at Tabby. Thonar took her hand and led her inside. It was a small but lavishly furnished stone house, and she knew that this must be the living arrangement he had worked out for her.

"Isn't it quaint?" He cooed as he snaked his arm around her waist. "You'll find a kitchen stocked with the rarest cuts of meat, and a wardrobe full of clothes and jewelry in the bedroom. Not that you'll be needing that right now…" He leered as he tugged at the laces on the back of her dress.

Tabby froze and screwed her eyes shut, but thankfully there was a knock on the door just then. "Blast it! I said we were not to be disturbed," Thonar turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, "Undress and get into bed. I'll be there shortly."

His back was turned. If she was quiet enough, she could unsheathe her bow and drive an arrow through his brain. But instead she accepted defeat, wandering to the bedroom as she listened to Thonar put Yngvar through the ringer for interrupting them.

"There's been a change of plan," Thonar said as he lumbered back into the room. "I have to go to a meeting. And you're going to come with me."

So Thonar made her dress up in one of the expensive gowns he bought her and paraded her around Markarth. He took her to his meeting at the Treasury House, although she wasn't allowed into the chamber were discussions were being held. She was simply an object for the men to leer at before and afterwards.

"When do we get to enjoy her, Thonar?" One of the businessmen asked.

"Soon," He promised. "Once this whole thing is sorted out. All of us will get to be there for her first time. As long as the first one to go is me."

So that's why he was waiting to use her. So that he could do so in front of all of his friends before passing her along. Tabby's stomach churned. Something had to be done, and it had to be soon.

That evening Thonar had another meeting that was apparently so secret that she couldn't come, so he sent her on her way home as he strode off towards Cidhna Mine.

…Except Tabby didn't go to the house. It was shortly after ten, and she remembered that a certain someone would be at the Shrine of Talos at that hour.

She had sworn she wouldn't get involved, but at this point she was so desperate to change her fate that she would try anything. She wouldn't be any worse by hearing what the strange man had to say, at least.

"I was beginning to think you'd never come," Eltrys' voice boomed from the inner chamber as she pushed open the door.

"Believe me, I thought I never would."

"Well, one way or another, you're here. You're an outsider. You're dangerous-looking. You'll do."

"'I'll do?' Exactly what are you dragging me into, Reachman?"

"You want answers? Well so do I, Nord. So does everyone in this city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing but clean up the mess. And this has been going on for years, but when I've looked for justice all I've found is murder and blood. I need your help. Please," He looked at her with tired eyes.

Tabby sighed. "Of course. Of course I've gotten myself into some kind of dark, juicy scandal."

"Not quite as dark and juicy as the Molag Bal shrine around the corner that the guard conveniently ignores."

Tabby threw up her hands. Of _course_ there was a Molag Bal shrine around the corner! "You know what? Fine. I'll do it. I'll help you. This city has already proved itself to be so absolutely batshit insane, how could this really make my situation much worse?"

It was if suddenly the life that had been almost totally beaten out of Eltrys came rushing back into him all at once. "You really mean it? Oh, that's wonderful news. Just wonderful…"

Tabby snorted. "Don't make me change my mind. Just tell me what you need me to do."


	17. Chapter 17: The Nose

Thonar didn't come to her that night. Thank Sithis. Instead Tabby laid awake, pondering what she had gotten herself into. She could very well wind up dead herself, but truthfully death seemed preferable to a lifetime of being passed back and forth between Thonar and his friends.

Then Yngvar's words played over and over in her head: _Makes sense you were born here_. Maybe he was right. The city had a darkness to it, that was undeniable. A darkness that perhaps the Night Mother found pleasing, the perfect cesspool from which to pluck her favored child.

Then, the real shock of the day: she had a grandmother who was still alive. And her grandmother was a Reachwoman. _Tabby_ was a Reachwoman.

When she was a small child growing up in Cyrodiil, she hadn't known that she was born in Skyrim. But she did know that she was a Nord.

She towered over the prissy Imperial children in town, even the boys. She usually was comfortable in a hunting jacket, while they were enveloped in furs. They would make fun of her sometimes; mock her height, call her a barbarian, imitate her thick Nordic accent. Until nine year old Tabby knocked the fletcher's son flat on his back, and earned the begrudging respect of the local pack of children.

But even when she was being mocked, she had always taken an immense pride in her Nordic roots. It was an integral part of who she was. She would spend entire afternoons at the bookshop, reading and rereading the single book of Nordic mythologies they had in stock. She would daydream of her brave ancestors, earning their places in Sovngarde through valiant battles.

And now, to learn that she was only Nord by half…and that the other half of her was a people that she had considered backwards, violent, an enemy…

She dreamt of standing on a cliff, deep in the wilds of the Reach. A dragon circled lazily overhead, but made no attempts to attack her. The scenery was beautiful, and she was happy. But she was parched.

At long last she came to a stream, clear and pure. Eagerly she knelt to drink, but froze in terror when she glimpsed her reflection in the water. She had turned into a hagraven.

The next morning she opened her wardrobe, and, to her immense relief, found her armor piled in a heap in the back. How it got there was beyond her, but that didn't really matter. Now that people knew her face, knew her as Thonar's mistress, she needed the anonymity and intimidation factor of the Shroud.

As she strapped the bodysuit around her, pulled on her gloves and boots, a wave of relaxation swept over her. This was her second skin, and it hugged her reassuringly. And as she pulled the cowl over her mouth and nose, she started to truly feel like herself again.

Tabby had suspected she was walking into a tangled mess of a conspiracy with the tasks Eltrys had given her, but she could not have even began to fathom the reality of the situation. The more she dug, the better it got.

Tabby was not known for her lock-picking skills, but even for her it was child's play to break into the dead woman's room and swipe her diary. Turns out our victim wasn't a helpless tourist, after all. As it happened, the murdered woman was an Imperial agent investigating - who else - Thonar Silver-Blood. Tabby was hopeful that the diary would reveal some juicy scandal about the pig, but no such luck: the agent kept her mission maddeningly vague.

Step one was completed. Then, a quick tour of the Warrens revealed that the murderer - one of the desperately poor Reachman smelters - wasn't your run of the mill lunatic. He seemed to have been embarking on a wider campaign of terror, acting under the orders of a mysterious entity known only to Tabby as "N."

But before she could think through it all, a rough hand on her shoulder spun her around. She came face to face with a giant Reachman snarling down at her.

"You've been digging around where you don't belong, Red," He growled. "It's time you learned a lesson."

"I don't listen to threats," Tabby responded condescendingly.

"You'll listen to this," He said, and took a swing at her.

He was strong but slow, and Tabby had time to duck before his fist landed in her face. She gave him three rapid kicks straight in the stomach, causing him to double over. This gave her the opportunity to drive her knee into his nose, and that was enough for the Reachman. He stumbled to the ground, groaning as he clutched both his nose and stomach.

"Ugh. You mangy piece of pit-bait!"

"Who are you?" Tabby demanded. "Who sent you?"

"It was Nepos the Nose," He croaked. "The old man hands out the orders. He told me to make sure you didn't get in the way. That's all I know, I swear!"

"Where can I find him?"

"He lives in a big house at the top of the cliffs. Can't miss it. We done here, you brat?"

This had to be the N mentioned on Weylin's note. It seemed he was due for a visit. But before hunting down Nepos, Tabby made a stop at the Shrine of Talos to report back to Eltrys. He seemed more nervous this time. Like he knew something sinister was about to happen to them.

"So both Nepos the Nose and Thonar Silver-Blood seem to be implicated. Thonar makes sense. He's involved in every facet of the city. But Nepos? He's so well-respected among the natives of the Reach. I have a feeling he gets his own orders, though. But no matter, you've done good work. Keep following the trail."

But the trail soon turned perilous. Nepos wasn't just a respected old man in the community; he was a high ranking Forsworn officer with a house full of agents. And yet he seemed almost morose as he confessed to Tabby how he sent young and impassioned Forsworn to their deaths in the name of their still-imprisoned King in Rags, Madanach.

She almost felt bad for when she asked him why he so readily admitted his involvement, he just chuckled.

"My dear girl, what makes you think you're getting out of here alive?"

The sound of swords being drawn echoed around her, as the three servants advanced towards her and Nepos himself rose and unsheathed his dagger. Tabby's stomach knotted itself as she drew the Blade of Woe. She was first and foremost an archer, and most of her work with a blade came from sneaking up behind people and slitting her throats. She was not nearly as skilled at actual melee combat, and two servants blocked the only exit. All she could do was position herself against a wall so no one could stab her in the back, and hope for the best.

Sithis must have been smiling upon her that day, for by some sort of miracle her blade found its way into the hearts of all four of her assailants. But it wasn't without cost. The maid had managed to slash through her armor, leaving a considerable gash in her shoulder that was now oozing blood. Wincing in pain, Tabby staggered to her grandmother's alchemy shop in search of a healing potion.

When she pushed open the door the old woman didn't recognize her with the armor, and gave her a frightened stare. "Is there…something I can do for you?" She said warily.

Tabby had no choice but to pull down her cowl. "It's me. Your granddaughter?"

"What on Earth is that armor?" Bothela asked in alarm. "I've never seen anything like that."

"That doesn't matter right now. I'm hurt. Do you have a healing potion?" She lifted the hand that was clamped to her shoulder to show Bothela the gash.

The hag's brow furrowed. "By the old gods, what happened?"

Tabby lowered her voice a bit and leaned in towards her grandmother. "I'm helping a Reachman investigate the murders around Markarth. I was led to Nepos the Nose, but it turned out to be an ambush."

"Are you insane?" Bothela blurted, handing Tabby a red bottle. "It's a miracle you're even alive. Child, I beg you. Stop while you still can. I've already got one grandchild rotting away in Cidhna Mine, I don't know if my heart could take another."

"You have another grandchild?"

"Had three. You and two of your cousins. But just a few years after you were taken away, Kionah fell off the ledge near the Temple of Dibella. I told her not to run in the streets after it rained. She was only ten years old then."

"And the other one?"

"Odvan. Thrown into Cidhna Mine two years ago, framed by the guards for a murder he didn't commit. No idea if I'll be seeing him again." Bothela's eyes crinkled in sadness. "Their parents are gone, too. Gave Odvan up for dead and set out for Karthwasten after he was thrown in prison. But when I sent a letter out there asking when I could visit, I got a note back from a stranger. Said no one new had arrived in Karthwasten."

"So they went somewhere else?"

"It's possible, child, but what's more likely is that they never made it to the village. Got mauled by an animal or slaughtered by Forsworn."

"The Forsworn would kill other Reachmen?"

"The Forsworn would do just about anything in the name of their stunted idea of justice," Bothela said bitterly. "I despise them just as much as any of your precious Nordfolk, but that doesn't mean I think you should go poking your head into their business."

"Well, it's a bit late to turn back now. There's already four dead Forsworn in Nepos' house."

Bothela grabbed Tabby's arm hard enough to hurt. "Eilis, you are the only family I have left," Bothela said, tears welling up in her eyes. "And I've just gotten you back after I thought you were gone forever. Are you going to break my heart a second time?"

"My name isn't Eilis anymore," She responded coldly, pulling her arm from Bothela's grasp. "And the only reason I've even stayed this long is because Thonar Silver-Blood has me trapped like an animal. I've got another family now, and as soon as I can return to them, I will." She stood to leave, throwing some gold onto Bothela's counter. "Thank you for the potion," She said curtly, and walked out the door, leaving her hurt and confused grandmother behind.

After stopping to have her armor patched by Ghorza, the only thing left to do was to pay a visit to Thonar Silver-Blood.

It was too convenient that the target Nepos - and therefore Madanach - chose to "strike fear into the hearts of the Nords" just so happened to be an Imperial agent threatening Thonar's control over Cidhna Mine. Tabby wasn't sure the exact extent of his involvement, but the whole thing reeked of corruption.

It may well have been easier to wait until the evening, when she could potentially seduce him into whispering sweet nothings of his crimes into her ear. But her adrenaline was still pumping from the fight at Nepos' house, and she was feeling aggressive. She wanted answers now.

Her resolve strengthened, she flung open the door and stormed right past Rhiada and even Thonar's wife, who looked at her in shock as she marched into Thonar's quarters.

"What in Talos' name are you doing here?" Thonar hissed as soon as he saw her. "My wife is right outside the door!"

"To Oblivion with your wife," She snapped. "You have a lot to answer for, Thonar."

"Oh, do I?" He said with a condescending smile.

"Oh, do you. Let's start with what you're doing making deals with the Forsworn."

His smile immediately disappeared, a darkness falling over his face. This clearly was not the direction he thought the conversation would go. "You've been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, girl." He said quietly, calmly. But viciously.

"I could say the same about you. Are you ready to come clean?"

"The Forsworn are mad men. Nothing more, nothing less. They think they rule the Reach, but guess who really runs things around here? Me. I own the mines. I make the coin pass to the right hands. That answer your damn questions? Now I want you out of my house, before my wife gets suspicious."

But Betrid Silver-Blood never had time to become suspicious, because just then a long, agonized scream came from the front of the Treasury House. Tabby and Thonar ran to investigate, both barely ducking in time to avoid a lightning spell from the hands of one of the elderly servants. Thonar's wife lay in a pool of blood, eyes wide open in shock.

"By the gods, Betrid…no! We had a deal, you Forsworn bastards!" Thonar drew his sword and promptly gutted the old man standing over Betrid's body.

Nana Ildene had swung wide across the room and was charging what appeared to be another lightning spell. She shot a ball of energy from her hands, and Tabby darted behind the counter where a terrified Rhiada was crouching, but as it turned out the spell wasn't even aimed for her…

…It was aimed for the lifeless body of Betrid Silver-Blood, which rose to its feet and drew the expensive dagger at its hip. Its empty, dead eyes locked with Tabby's, a sight so unnerving that she forgot about the old housekeeper entirely. Until she was knocked off her feet, by a real lightning spell this time.

She struggled to stand up, her body still spasming with the agonizing pain of electric shocks. Now she was mad. She had just put down four Forsworn agents, three of them young and at their strongest, and now she couldn't knock off an old hag?

She reasoned that if Ildene were to die, so would Betrid's reanimated corpse. So she kept the thrall in her peripheral vision - Thonar was currently trying to restrain it, but it was slashing its dagger wildly. Tabby knew it was a matter of time before Thonar would have to let go or risk losing a hand. Focusing most of her attention on the old woman lobbying spells at her, she drew her bow and began firing indiscriminately. Now was not the time to worry about perfect accuracy.

Between ducking her lightning bolts and keeping an eye on her zombie, it took Tabby three tries to hit her mark - an embarrassment in any other circumstances. But finally one of her arrows lodged itself in the old woman's skull. She collapsed to the ground, as did Betrid Silver-Blood. Only this time she lay there as a large pile of grey ash.

Thonar's lip was quivering in anger as he stared at his wife's ashes. He was clearly devastated, but Tabby didn't feel the least bit sorry for him. People died all the time. She would know.

"My wife…they killed her. Damn Madanach. Damn them all to Oblivion."

"You had it coming," Tabby said mercilessly. "After everything you've done?"

"Shut up," He snapped. "Only the gods can judge me. You want to know what the Forsworn really are, you nasty little harlot?"

"Depends. Are you going to tell me the whole truth this time?"

"Those Forsworn that everyone in the hold are so scared of? They're my puppets. And the King in Rags? After Ulfric put down the rebellion, I had Madanach brought to me. He was a wild animal, but a useful one. So I let him run his little Forsworn rebellion from inside my mine, and he uses his influences to deal with any…annoyances that come up. But now he's out of control."

"So he's betrayed you."

"Yes. Much as you've betrayed me."

" _Me_? I'm trying to stop Madanach…"

"Shut your mouth, whore. You already got what you wanted. This is your fault. You and Madanach are no better than animals."

"You're a despicable man, Thonar Silver-Blood," Tabby said, her voice trembling with anger. "A pathetic excuse for a Nord. I should've killed you ten times over by now."

"I could say the same of you. You think I don't know whose armor you're wearing? I knew something was off about you from the start. And now this. You've proven to be more trouble than you're worth, girl, and I'll see you and Madanach both rot to death in Cidhna Mine for what you've done. Now get out of my house!"

"With pleasure," She spat, making sure to kick Betrid's ashes as she left.

She didn't know what was going to happen to her. Thonar's threat was dramatic, but it did not seem to be empty. But at least she was free from his manipulations now.

The sun had almost completely set on what had been one of the most action-filled days of her life. And as an assassin, that was really saying something. She rounded the corner to the Shrine of Talos, ready to brief Eltrys on what had just happened. She was instead greeted by a town guard.

"We tried to warn you," He said mockingly. "But you just had to go and cause trouble. Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work, work, work."

Tabby peered around the guard, expecting to find Eltrys arrested as well. Instead she saw two guards standing over his body.

"You murdered him!" She gasped. "Why?"

"We had a nice little deal going between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started snooping around. You wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? Well, you'll have plenty of time with the King in Rags when you're in the mines." The guard took her roughly by the arm. "You'll never see the sun again, you hear me? No one escapes Cidhna Mine. No one."


	18. Chapter 18: The King in Rags

"I need to speak to Madanach. It's urgent."

"You and all of these skooma-addled lowlifes, sweetheart," The monstrous Borkul the Beast cracked each one of his knuckles as he peered down at her. "You want to talk to the King, you got to pay the toll. How about you get those tiny hands on a shiv for me? That dung heap Grisvar's been known to make a few."

That seemed like a lot of trouble - and a lot of potential to get herself beaten up or worse - but Tabby didn't want to push it with the Orc. One of the other prisoners had already told her about Borkul's reputation, and though she would never admit it out loud, without her armor and her weapons she was plenty frightened of him.

In fact, she was frightened of almost all her fellow prisoners. She was a Nord woman in a prison full of Forsworn men, and most of them had shivs or pickaxes while she was left utterly defenseless.

So she mustered up the courage to look the orc in the eye and said, "Alright, fine. I'll get you a shiv."

A good man had been murdered in cold blood by the guards. Tabby was tossed in a prison notorious for being un-escapable. She thought she didn't have much to lose by embarking on Eltrys's grand mission, but apparently she had been dead wrong.

Eventually, Nazir and Babette would realize she was in trouble when she failed to return to the Sanctuary. They would send scouts to look for her. But it could be months before they figure out something had gone wrong - they weren't expecting her back anytime soon. And would they ever think to look for her here, deep underground in Skyrim's most impenetrable of jails?

She had no intentions of waiting around indefinitely for her rescue. She had to take matters into her own hands. Which is why she needed an audience with the King in Rags. If anyone in this hellhole could help her, it would be him.

But getting her hands on the shiv proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated. Grisvar wanted skooma in return, and Duach, who had a bottle, was a captured Forsworn who didn't seem particularly fond of her.

"Nord cow," He sneered as soon as he saw her. "Don't come any closer unless you want to lose an eye." The Reachman flashed a shiv at her in an attempt at menace.

"I'm half Reachwoman," She protested. "My father was a Forsworn."

"Yeah? What was his name?"

Tabby hesitated. Bothela never told her, and she didn't know Reach naming rituals well enough to make something up.

Duach sneered, "I knew it. You look pure Nord to me. And I swore an oath that I would kill the next Nord to get thrown in here." He took a couple steps toward her. Normally Tabby wouldn't bat an eyelash at an emaciated madman's threats. But down here, she was vulnerable.

It was then that Tabby remembered something. "My grandmother is Bothela. She tells me I have a cousin in here. Odvan. Do you know him?"

"Do I ever. Hey, Od," He called down a long mining tunnel. "Get out here. We've got a…situation."

A young Reachman appeared at Duach's side. He and Tabby did not look alike.

Yet he gave her a strange look, not unlike the one Bothela had given her the first time they might.

"This Nord bitch says she's half Reach. Says she's your cousin."

"I remember my younger cousin," He said. "Her father knocked up a Nord girl. Then he took her away one day, and I never saw her again. You look a lot like her, except a lot more grown up now."

"My name was Eilis then."

Odvan smiled, and Tabby could finally relax. "Then by the old gods, it is you. Never thought I'd be seeing you again. Though it's regrettable we meet again under these circumstances."

"So she is half Nord," Duach said warily.

"Yes. But the other half of her is one of us. You'd do well to remember that, Duach," Odvan said.

"Hmph. Fine. What do you want, girl?"

"I need skooma for Grisvar."

"Trying to get a shiv, are you?" Odvan asked before producing one from his pocket. "Just take mine. I'd say you probably need it more than I do."

"It's actually for Borkul the Beast," She admitted.

"So you're trying to bribe him. To get to Madanach? But why?"

"If you're trying to kill him…" Duach threatened.

"No, no. I just want to speak with him. That's all."

Reluctantly Duach let her go, and she presented Odvan's shiv to Borkul. He was satisfied enough to open the gate, and before she knew it Tabby was standing before the King in Rags himself.

She entered expecting to hate Madanach. He and his Forsworn had killed hundreds, many of them her Nord kinsfolk. But he wanted to explain, and she was willing to listen. And, somehow, the more he spoke, the more her sympathy for him - and the rest of the Reachmen - grew.

"…the Nords put chains on us," He concluded. "Forbid us from worshipping our gods. But some of us refused to bow. We knew the old ways would lead us back to our kingdom. That is who we are. The Forsworn. Criminals in our own lands. And we will cut a bloody hole into the Reach until we are free."

Tabby's eyes fell to the ground. "I don't agree with many of your tactics," She said. "Killing innocents. Meddling with dark magic. But now I understand why you do it. The desperation. The generations after generations of oppression. I understand it now."

Madanach's wild eyes became a bit more gentle then. "I don't think I asked you for your name."

Tabby hesitated a moment before answering.

"Eilis."

"That's not a Nord name."

"Because I'm not full Nord. My father was a Forsworn."

Madanach raised his bushy eyebrows at her. "Was he, now? Well, that makes things more interesting. It would appear that you've got some conflicting interests here in Markarth. Well, Eilis. I'll help you get your freedom. But you must follow my instructions exactly."

"Fine. I'll play along. Under one condition."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"When we get out of here. If anyone kills Thonar Silver-Blood, it's going to be me."

Madanach laughed. "He's all yours, my dear."

And so she - Tabby the Nord, Eilis the Reachwoman - cast her lot in with the Forsworn king and his assorted followers.

The Forsworn did terrible things. They killed innocents and terrorized the Reach. It might not be wrong to call them terrorists.

But still they were acting out after years of brutal oppression, of being forced off their own lands. Were they really much different than the Stormcloaks in the east?

And Tabby was one of them. The proud, brave history of the Nords belonged to her, but so did the ancient suffering of the Reachmen. She wasn't about to go running for the hills and join them, as her father had. But now she knew all they had endured, and she sympathized with the people that were as much hers as the Nords were. She looked Nord. And truth be told, she still _felt_ primarily Nord. But now she would have in her heart her ancestors who died for the lands they called home, only to have those lands stolen from them anyway.

"My first instruction is a show of loyalty," Madanach continued. "No use getting out of here just to find a shiv in my back."

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Have you met Grisvar the Unlucky? He's rightly named, and he's also a thief and a snitch. He's outlived his minor usefulness."

"You want me to take care of him for you." She said in a bored tone.

Madanach raised his eyebrows. "I expected you to raise some objections to that."

Tabby grinned. "You haven't got a very good read on me, then."

She had given her only shiv to Borkul, and even if she knew how to make a bow herself there were none of the necessary materials in sight. Brute strength was not her area of expertise. The thing she did have on her side, however, was time.

She had been down in the mines for less than twenty-four hours. She was young, strong, and still well-fed. Grisvar the Unlucky had a body that was ravaged by years of backbreaking labor, malnutrition, and skooma addiction. It was only a matter of creeping up behind him and smashing a rock into the back of his head, with another hit to the temple to finish him off. Before his body was even cold, Tabby and the Forsworn prisoners were jogging through the Dwarven ruins deep below Markarth.

As it turned out, they needed her almost as much as she needed them. Her smaller frame and her stealth skills meant that she could scout ahead, warning the unarmored and poorly-armed contingent of incoming centurions and spiders. An irony-filled laugh escaped her lips when she realized she was finally doing the scouting work that Balimund believed was her livelihood.

As Tabby and her new Forsworn friends finally emerged from the ruins, hastily changed out of their prison uniforms and armed themselves, Madanach approached her with a pile of fur armor.

"A token of my appreciation," He said. "As much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn't have been able to get everyone out of here without you. Take the Armor of the Old Gods, that it may protect you in the fiercest of battles. And that you may remember where you come from."

It was a heartfelt gift, and Tabby was truly touched. "Thank you," She said sincerely, tucking the equipment away in her knapsack. "I'm ready when you are."

He gave her a terrible grin. "Good. You've held up your end of the bargain. Now let me fulfill mine."

Sure enough, when they emerged into the chilly night air Thonar Silver-Blood was waiting for them with a pair of guards. The arrogance of it, really. Facing down a mob of Forsworn with just two guards?

"Think you can escape my prison do you? You'll pay for what you've done to my family, all of you!"

"Are you scared, girl?" Madanach breathed into her ear. Tabby shook her head and whispered back:

"Thonar might have money and power. But he's incredibly stupid."

She pulled her cowl down and walked to Thonar, until their faces were inches apart. With the sweetest smile on her face she murmured, "Give my regards to your wife, Thonar."

The look of confusion barely had time to register on his face before she plunged the Blade of Woe into his heart.

Two of her Forsworn friends were on the guards before they had time to react. The rest drew their weapons. They knew they would have to fight their way out of the city.

"Coming with us, cousin?" Odvan appeared at her side, looking at her expectantly.

Tabby shook her head. "I don't think so, Odvan. I have other business to take care of."

He nodded in understanding, and he turned to follow the rest of the Forsworn. "Old gods keep you, Eilis. Tell our grandmother I love her, won't you?"

That was it, then. Her partnership with Madanach was over, and the one thing keeping her trapped in Markarth lay dead at her feet. She was free now, and the first thing she was going to do was get the hell out of this backwards, corrupted mess of a city.

* * *

Bothela looked disappointed when Tabby told her she was leaving. But she seemed to understand. After all the misery Markarth had brought her, there was no way Tabby was going to stay.

"I'm just glad to have seen you again," Bothela said as she embraced her granddaughter. "Now I know you're alive. And more or less well."

"I met Odvan when I was in Cidhna Mine. But he went with Madanach when we all escaped. He asked me to give you his love."

Bothela smiled sadly. "Another kinsman, lost to the rebellion. At least he'll die a free man, not rotting in a Nord's mine."

"You have Muiri to keep you company. You'll be alright, won't you?"

"Yes, yes, I'll manage. Have been for years. But you be careful out there, you hear me? And try to visit again before I keel over?"

"I'll try my best. Thank you for everything. I mean it."

Bothela put a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "Let me give you a piece of parting wisdom, granddaughter. You've experienced a good amount of trauma in your life. You don't have to say anything; I can see it in your eyes. Know this: you descend from some of the most resilient peoples on Nirn. When it seems as if the darkness is swallowing you up, call on your ancestors from the Reach. They will give you the strength to carry on, as we have done for millennia."

Tabby squeezed Bothela's hand. "Old gods keep you, grandmother."

* * *

She spent one more night in the inn, to sleep off the events of the last few days. As she tossed and turned in her stone bed, the Night Mother finally reappeared.

 _How convenient that you're leaving the city. For someone once again has prayed to their Mother. Go to the longhouse in Falkreath. Speak with the jarl - he specifically requested the Listener. And send another soul to their Dread Father. Hail Sithis!_

So it was time to resume her Brotherhood business. Tabby was going to leave Markarth armed with the knowledge of who she was - as complicated as that knowledge was. She may not have found her parents alive, but at least she knew what became of them. She grieved for her mother, who died before she could truly live. And she hoped her father would suffer an eternity of torment in the Void, if he wasn't there already. And so Tabby, the half-breed, finally made peace with that chapter of her life. Now if only she could heal from what had happened after she had been sold.


	19. Chapter 19: The Assassin and the Jarl

Tabby glared up at the carriage driver in an epic battle of Nord stubbornness. Both were annoyed at each other, and neither was backing down.

"You deaf, girl? I don't work the southern Reach anymore. Too dangerous.

"Fine. Take me to Rorikstead, and I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Can't do that, either. Eastern road hasn't been looking too great these days."

Tabby placed both hands on her hips. "Then where _do_ you go?"

The driver threw his hands in the air. "Look, miss. If you haven't noticed, there's a wee group called the Forsworn that's been ravaging the countryside. This week alone there have been four attacks on the road to Falkreath. I can take you to Solitude, or I can take you to the High Rock border. But it'd be suicide to try and travel the southbound road!"

He really wasn't going to budge. Tabby hated being the one who didn't get her way, but it seemed there was nothing she could do. "So be it," She said. "I'll walk. Coward."

The driver shrugged. "Your funeral."

Perhaps it would have been wise to listen to the driver. He hadn't been exaggerating; the road to Falkreath was nothing short of infested with Forsworn. She made it out alive - she always did. But she was exhausted by the time she reached Falkreath.

A pang of sadness hit her as the sleepy town loomed in front of her. She felt the spirits of her brothers and sisters hanging heavy in the air. Nevertheless, it was still comforting to be back here. Falkreath still felt like home.

She couldn't bring herself to visit the destroyed Sanctuary. Perhaps someday. They could construct a memorial in honor of their fallen. But today, it was too soon. Too painful.

And she couldn't forget the real reason she was in Falkreath in the first place - there was work to be done.

Tabby was unimpressed by Falkreath's jarl, Siddgeir. His snobbish demeanor and leering gaze reminded her more than a little of Thonar. She was sure that under different circumstances, and without her cowl, he would be the kind of man to make a pass at her. She stood before him at his throne, amazed that he was arrogant - and foolish - enough to conduct business with the Dark Brotherhood in the middle of his longhouse.

"I believe I specifically sent for the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood," He said condescendingly. "Not some waifish little whelp!"

Tabby gave him a steely glare from behind her cowl and said, "If I'm not a satisfactory Listener, I'm sure there any number of common thugs you could strike a deal with," And that shut the jarl up.

"Err. Right. Well. I suppose we've reached the part where I tell you who to kill?" Tabby simply nodded in reply.

"Thadgeir's his name. _Not_ to be confused with his brother, Dengeir."

Tabby raised her eyebrows. "Isn't he your uncle?"

"Well…yes. But you have to understand!" Siddgeir raised his voice to a whiny alto. "He's a _Stormcloak_! And I've reason to believe he's been worshipping Talos in secret. Think how bad that would make me look if the Imperials find out!"

"Thadgeir's an influential man in this town," Tabby pointed out. "I hope you have adequate compensation for what may be a difficult transaction."

"Adequate compensation? I'm the jarl, for Mara's sake," Siddgeir snapped his fingers at his steward, and she brought him a long, dog-eared piece of parchment. Tabby looked at it, unimpressed.

"And what are we supposed to do with a piece of paper?"

"My dear, simple Listener, this 'piece of paper' is the deed to Lakeview Manor, my favorite hunting lodge. I've had some, ah…budgetary concerns as of late, and have felt the need to downsize some of my assets. You kill Thadgeir for me, the Manor belongs to the Dark Brotherhood."

"Understood," Tabby said curtly, and started for the door. She wasn't sure what use the Brotherhood would have for an estate, but it seemed more than enough payment for the job.

"Wait!"

Tabby turned again to face the smug jarl.

"To be perfectly honest, half of my reason for contacting you was plain curiosity. The Emperor's guards told me they had wiped you all out," He gave her a sinister smile. "Clearly that isn't the case."

"We're still around," Tabby said carefully. She couldn't tell if the Brotherhood had an ally or an enemy in Jarl Siddgeir. "Just not based in Falkreath anymore."

"Fair enough," The jarl said. "One way or another, you're out of my hair. Now, don't you have an assassination to plan?"

The jarl had annoyed her, that much was certain, but Tabby tried not to let him ruin her mood. After the mess she had gotten herself into in Markarth, it felt good to be back on Brotherhood business. Doing something that made sense.

Killing a has-been warrior shouldn't have been too difficult. But Tabby knew from the many supply runs she had made to Falkreath during the Brotherhood's heyday that Thadgeir spent much of his time on the streets of Falkreath or in the company of his brother and their maid. Getting him alone to give him a dagger to the throat would be a task.

There was a more promising option, however. And that was Falkreath's abundance of trees. It didn't take her long to scale one of the pines overlooking the town's main drag. From there, all she had to do was wait.

And wait. And wait. For both a clear shot, and a lack of witnesses. Even the dimmest of townsfolk would know that stray arrows aimed at the jarl's least favorite uncle didn't materialize out of nowhere.

She was almost nodding off a little just after twilight when she noticed Thadgeir exit Gray Pine Goods to an empty street. Now was her chance, likely the best chance she would have. Quickly notching an arrow, she took aim at the old man.

He went down with the first hit, of course. He was frail, and her aim was powerful. This is what she had been born to do, after all. And it felt damn good to be back to her natural state. She was finally back in control. The hunter, rather than the hunted.

Nobody had seen the arrow fly, which meant her best bet was to stay hidden in the tree until the body was discovered. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the farmer's wife went for an after-supper stroll, and nearly tripped over the body.

"Guards! Guards! Oh, somebody, help!"

Eventually the entire town was gathered around, mourning the loss of one of their most respected residents. The door to the jarl's longhouse swung upon, and Siddgeir and his court filed out in a panicked processional. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd in various levels of hysterics. Tabby swore the jarl spotted her in the tree - he was looking right at her. And she swore he gave her the slightest nod of approval.

That evening she stood before him in the longhouse once more. The body had been taken away, and the crowd ushered home and told to lock their doors.

"It's a shame, my uncle's accident. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Who could've known that he had a bad heart?" Tabby agreed sympathetically.

Siddgeir gave another one of his Thonar smiles. She couldn't wait until their business was concluded.

"You've more than earned this deed, my good Listener. Lakeview Manor is hereby yours, as are the steward and carriage driver previously in my employment." He lowered his voice and leaned in close. "Hail Sithis!" He said with a laugh.

* * *

"All this is mine?"

"Indeed, milady. The entire estate."

Tabby was flabbergasted. This was a thousand times more than everything she'd ever dream she could own. A literal mansion, a stable, her own carriage? And all nestled quietly away in the beautiful Falkreath forest? Once again, crime really did pay.

But what use would it be for the Brotherhood? It wasn't secure, and not…morbid enough. No, she would keep it to herself. It would be her own private retreat. A hidden paradise from all other turmoils.

It was then that she thought of her blacksmith friend. She wondered if he ever took a vacation. The next time she was in Riften, she could offer him the use of the estate. It was the least she could do to repay his kindness.

That evening she made dinner in the ample kitchen, which she shared with Gunjar and Rigmar, her driver and steward. She liked them; they were polite and amicable but didn't ask prying questions. She was fairly certain they knew she was from the Brotherhood, but they kept their mouths shut and that was good enough for her.

In the morning, she made the short walk to the water's edge. It was breathtakingly beautiful here. She had always been partial to the woods. Where others got lost in the never ending brush, she had never had an issue navigating the wilds. Perhaps she would have made a good adventurer, after all.

Across the water, a simple hunter had set up her camp. She waved to Tabby, and Tabby waved back. Now there was a life she wouldn't mind, either. Animals weren't quite as fun to hunt as people, but they were a hell of a lot less complicated.

But as much as she enjoyed her brief respite, she knew she had been gone from Dawnstar for far too long. Leaving her new estate in the care of her steward, she and Gunjar set course for the Sanctuary. It was time to go home.

* * *

As the carriage rattled along the bumpy road to Dawnstar, she dreamed that she was a small child again. She stood alone in a large chamber. Her hands were covered in blood. She must have just killed someone.

A fly landed on the side of her neck. She swatted it away, and her hand came away coated in a fresh layer of crimson. She located the two deep puncture wounds in her neck just as the chamber door creaked open.

And then she was jolted awake by a hole in the road. Thank the gods.

She hadn't had a dream like that in a long time, and it left her uneasy. Sithis willing this was a random occurrence, and not a sign of trouble on the horizon.


	20. Chapter 20: The Butcher

As much as she disliked Dawnstar, it was simply exquisite stepping through the Black Door. She felt as if she had been to Oblivion and back in just a few short weeks.

Even Nazir, never much one for affection, was undeniably happy to see her. He moved to hug her, but Tabby flinched away. Thoughts of Thonar's arms running up and down her waist flooded her mind.

"Apologies, Listener." Nazir hesitate. "Did something happen while you were gone?"

"Many things." Nazir seemed to pick up on her request to not press any further.

"Well, we missed you," He said simply. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Tabby hesitated. "In a sense? I found my grandmother, and a cousin - they're still alive in Markarth. But my mother died in childbirth, and my father joined the Forsworn years ago."

Nazir blinked heavily. "The Forsworn? So you're telling me…"

"I'm half Reachwoman. Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are."

"And how do you feel about all this?"

Tabby shrugged. "My father was as much of a waste of space as I expected. Actually - even more. Because I had a grandmother who wanted me. Who could have given me a normal life. And he took me from her all so that he could make a few coins."

"I hope he died a horrific death. Even better, that he's wandering around as one of their undead monstrosities."

"Me too."

"But, consider this. If your father never took you away from Markarth, where would you be now? Would you have still found the Dark Brotherhood? Would you still be the Listener?"

"That's…an interesting question."

If her father hadn't sold her, she wouldn't have endured all that she had in Cyrodiil. But perhaps she also would have never heard the rumor about Aventus Aretino, or wouldn't have the means to investigate it. Instead of cementing her place in infamy, she could be married to a poor smelter right now, popping out babies until she died of childbirth or disease.

And the other implication: Was it her destiny from birth to become the Listener? Would fate have guided her path to converge with the Brotherhood's anyway? Or had the Night Mother chosen her simply because she happened to stumble upon the Brotherhood, and she happened to appeal to her Mother more than Astrid or Nazir?

An uneasy silence settled between them. Then Nazir cleared his throat. "Stay here and rest as long as you want. But when you're ready, I've got another small job for you.

"You mean a contract?"

"Not in the traditional sense. You know that serial killer that's been sowing terror all over Windhelm?"

"He's becoming a problem?"

"We tried to let him be. He wasn't stealing any of our contracts," He said with a pointed look at Tabby. "So it wasn't our concern. But now, he is an issue. People are starting to blame the murders on us. And personally, I'd rather not be credited with such sloppy, amateurish work."

"You want me to take care of him?"

"As primitive as he is, he hasn't been caught yet. And that takes some degree of skill. So either convince him to join up or kill him. I don't care which. Just handle it."

"That I can do."

"I know you can. Take a few days to rest up first, though. Sithis knows you've earned it."

Tabby nodded and turned away, eager to sleep in her own bed for the first time in ages.

"Tabby?"

She turned back to Nazir.

"Whatever happened to you in Markarth, I'm sorry."

Tabby exhaled heavily. "It's alright. It's over now, anyway. I'd just rather not discuss it."

"That's perfectly fine. You've never told me what you went through before you came to Skyrim, either. I know it can be hard to discuss the past. I'm the same way. But I hope you know that if you ever do want to talk about it, you've got a sympathetic ear."

"Thank you, my friend. I'm touched."

She had one more person to check in with before she could sleep. If they could be called a person, that is.

 _I trust your time in Markarth was fruitful._

Tabby nodded. "Not in the way I expected. But it was."

 _I'm glad, sweet Listener. But now the time has come to leave that chapter of your life behind. For it was, after all, a mere stepping stone to get you where you are today._

"So it was destiny after all…?"

Tabby swore she could feel the Night Mother chuckle.

 _Nothing in your life thus far happened by mistake, Tabby. There's a reason why you were born with hair black as the Void. There's a reason why you felt the need to flee to Skyrim instead of Hammerfell. It was all set in stone from the beginning. I marked you from birth. I watched every step you took. And when the time was right, I guided you right to me._

"But you let me suffer for years, and did nothing to stop it?"

 _Oh, but I did many things to help you. Don't act like you never felt my aura around you. You just didn't have the words to name it._

Even through her hurt, Tabby knew the Night Mother was right. The mysterious pulls she had felt, prodding her to take certain actions. The times that things mysteriously went right for her when by all accounts they shouldn't have. Of course she couldn't have known at the time that that was the Night Mother's work.

 _You suffered greatly, Tabby. I won't deny that. But it had to happen that way. You can't see that now, but you will. One day._

"What does that mean?" Tabby asked. But the Night Mother fell silent.

* * *

Upon arrival in Windhelm, Tabby realized she had no idea how she was going to find this so-called "Butcher." Nobody seemed to want to talk about him, especially not to an outsider, and the town guard proved to be wholly incompetent. She had, however, heard through the rumor mill that the Butcher only preyed on young women. Which gave her one way to find him: She had to be his next target.

So once again she traded her armor for a simple dress and took to wandering the streets of Windhelm, both during the day and after dark. She had to get the townsfolk used to her presence, so that one of them would think of her when it was time to choose a victim. So she talked to every man she came across. Flirted with them a little. Anything to make herself memorable.

It was nearly nightfall now, the perfect hour for a murder. She settled herself in the marketplace and waited for it to gradually empty. It was nearly midnight before she was alone in the square.

She paced back and forth along the market, hoping that the dead of night and a new moon would be enough to draw the killer to her. She kept one hand planted firmly on the Blade of Woe.

Finally, a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, and she was ready. Before the enemy blade could pierce her, she had whipped around and shoved her blade against her would-be killer's throat. It was a middle-aged Imperial man, and he looked absolutely terrified. He dropped his own dagger and bolted, but he was no match for Tabby. She chased him down a narrow alleyway before making a flying tackle, knocking him to the ground and pinning him down.

"You've had quite the good run on your own, my friend," She said casually as she used her body weight to keep him trapped underneath her. "But now I'm afraid you're becoming a nuisance. Stealing possible targets. Tarnishing our reputation. We just can't have that."

"And who in Oblivion is 'we'?" The killer gasped as she pressed on his throat.

"Perhaps you've heard of us. We're the ones people pray to when they need someone dead. We take contracts out on just about anyone. Even emperors."

"Oh, gods, please don't," He whimpered, prompting an eye roll from Tabby.

"If only Windhelm knew that its notorious Butcher is a simpering coward," She sneered. "Now, look here. Your body of work is promising. It's sloppy and slightly crazed, but promising. But we simply can't ignore your freelance work anymore when we've got a monopoly to maintain. So I'm coming to you with a…business offer."

"But, you don't understand…"

"What's not to understand? You join the Brotherhood, or you die. I personally don't care which. But you'd better choose fast, or I'll choose for you," She said, pressing her blade a little harder against his throat.

"Listen, I'm no career assassin! I'm just a necromancer restocking my, er, supplies for an important project. But you let me go, and I'll stop. No more murders. I'll just fade back into obscurity like it never happened."

Tabby shook her head. "I may be young, but I've learned a few things in my life so far. The most important being that the only person you can trust is yourself. I take you at your word, and there's a damn good chance I have to haul myself out to this dump of a city a second time to put down the Butcher for real."

"Then you give me no choice," He said, and plunged his dagger into her abdomen.

Tabby rolled off of him, gasping and gurgling as she clasped her hands to the fountain of blood pouring out of her gut. Her attacker knelt over her, dagger raised to deliver the killing blow, and it seemed that Tabby would finally get to experience firsthand the Void to which she had sent so many souls. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently offered one last prayer to her Mother…

"By the order of the jarl, stop right there!"

The town guard, forever an irritating obstacle, was now her savior. She opened her eyes to find no less than three guards surrounding her, swords pointed at the man.

"Looks like we've finally found our Butcher, boys!" One of the guards exclaimed, but his glee vanished as the serial killer dropped his dagger and bolted. Despite the guards' protests, Tabby lurched to one knee and drew her bow through crippling pain. Just as the Butcher was about to turn a corner and vanish, she managed to lodge an arrow in the base of his skull. He collapsed lifeless to the ground, and two guards rushed to collect the body while the third examined her wound.

Half an hour later she found herself slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the chambers of the jarl's wizard, a surly mage by the name of Wuunfurth who was none too pleased to be roused by the guards at that hour. Nevertheless, he healed her back to the picture of health, and she left with the guards' blessing and her task complete.

As she left the palace, a familiar face approached her in the courtyard.

"Listener?"

"Babette? What are you doing here?"

The little vampire had a scowl on her face. "I was here on a contract. I completed it flawlessly, of course. But then some thug put a bag over me and snatched me right in broad daylight."

"What? And no one intervened?"

Babette shook her head sourly. "Of course not. Do you think there's a soul in Windhelm that gives a rat's ass about anyone but themselves? Anyways, this man manages to get me back to his house in this burlap sack. But naturally once he set me down inside the house, I ripped his throat out."

"Was it an Oculatus agent?" Tabby interjected.

Babette shook her head. "Definitely not. His armor looked like Thieves Guild to me. But that's not the worst part. After I killed him, I took a look around the house. That's when I found the cellar…"

"And?"

"There were two children and one young woman locked in cells down there. They were begging for me to help them, but I couldn't find a key anywhere I looked. I had no choice but to leave them."

"What was he going to do with them?"

"They didn't know. Sounded like they had been grabbed off the streets just like I had."

"So the Thieves Guild is kidnapping children," Tabby concluded. "Why? To hold them for ransom?"

"Seems likely. Whatever will turn them a profit."

"Can you tell me which house it was?

"I think so. Follow me."

As the sun began to peek above the horizon, Tabby followed Babette to Windhelm's residential district, where Babette stopped in front of a large, expensive looking house.

"This one."

Tabby rattled the front door. Locked tight. "Did you leave out the front door?"

Babette nodded. "Someone must have come through after me and locked it again."

Tabby put her eye next to the lock. "This is a heavy duty lock. There's no chance I'll be able to pick it. We'll just have to find another way in."

"You want to go back in there?!"

"We've got to try and help those kids," Tabby said as she cased the house.

"Since when are you so eager to play the hero?"

"Since innocent children's lives are stake." She picked up a potted plant on the porch, hoping to find a spare key underneath. Nothing.

"Well, it looks like all the windows are boarded up, and I don't see any way into the cellar from outside. And neither of us are exactly built to break down the front door."

Babette was right. Whoever was holed up in this house was determined to not let anyone else in.

"Let's go, Tabby," Babette took her by the elbow. "I'm not too keen to wait around and see if the lowlife who nabbed me has a friend."

Tabby knew that if Babette had allowed herself to slip and use her first name rather than her title, she truly was distressed. So reluctantly she let Babette lead her away, and they caught a wagon back to Dawnstar together. But the entire way the thought of children caged up, crying for help, never evaded her.


	21. Chapter 21: The Guildmaster

When she and Babette arrived home, Tabby wasted no time drafting a letter to Mercer Frey. The Thieves Guild wasn't about to get away with kidnapping one of her assassins, much less innocent children.

 _I've always known the Thieves Guild was a bunch of slimy, crooked thugs, but you've taken things to a new low, Mercer. I hear that the Guild used to have honor. It's clear that those days are long gone._

 _You can either clean up your act, or you can forget about the Brotherhood's help the next time misfortune comes knocking at your door._

 _The Listener_

All that was left was to cover her palm in ink and place a large black handprint at the bottom of the page. Tabby posted the letter at the local inn, not expecting much of a response but satisfied that she had put her foot down on those good-for-nothing's.

A few weeks rolled by with no response. Business was booming at the Sanctuary, and Tabby had been spending nearly all her time in Dawnstar to Listen as contract after contract rolled in, leaving her with no time to think about the disturbing events of Windhelm. It even got so busy that Nazir himself accepted a contract, and a juicy one at that. He was undercover at a swanky Solitude party, intending to poison a guest's wine. Though she had just about seen it all on her own contracts, Tabby still looked forward to the gory details of the mission. Yet when Nazir returned to the Sanctuary after the contract, the first thing she noticed was the disturbed look on his face.

"There were whores at the party," Nazir began. "Nothing out of the ordinary, except that some of them seemed frightened. It was like they had been threatened. A couple of others seemed just…off. Like they had been given Sleeping Tree Sap before the party."

"You think they were there by force?"

"I can't be sure, but I fear they might have. And the real disturbing thing was, some of these girls were young."

"How young?"

"Hard to say. Most of them looked to be around your age. But there were a few that were much younger. Children, really."

"That's …awful," Tabby said. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"It's unfortunate, Listener. But it's not our business."

Two days after Nazir's return, she received a response from the Thieves Guild. To her shock, it was well-written, it was cordial, and it was not signed by Mercer Frey.

 _Most Honorable Listener,_

 _I begin this letter by apologizing for our failure to keep the Dark Brotherhood informed of recent events in the Thieves Guild. We hope to establish more effective channels of communication moving forward._

 _Mercer Frey is dead. He was revealed to be a traitor to the Guild in every way imaginable, and he will receive his punishment on the other side. I have replaced him as Guildmaster, and I am committed wholeheartedly to the reorganization and revitalization of the Guild._

 _Second, I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. The Thieves Guild has not, nor will we ever, kidnap innocents as hostages. However, I believe I know of the situation to which you refer. I have been investigating these crimes for awhile now, but I can't do it alone._

 _I humbly ask for a meeting with you in the Ragged Flagon on the 12th of Mid Year to discuss this matter further. It is my hope to establish a long and fruitful relationship between Listener and Guildmaster, Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Marius Celata_

Naturally, Tabby showed Nazir the letter immediately.

"So the Thieves Guild has had some shakeups as well," Nazir said. "Could be a good thing. I never liked Frey. You're going to give this new fellow a shot?"

"Might as well. I'm not entirely convinced they're not involved in this, but I'll see what this Marius Celata has to say."

She arrived in Riften under cover of night. She paused outside the Scorched Hammer, where Balimund was surely sleeping soundly and with a clear conscience. What a luxury that must be.

A Thieves Guild initiate was waiting in the canals to escort Tabby to the Ragged Flaggon, a thoughtful if unnecessary touch. Once inside, Delvin directed her to the back room, where the Guildmaster immediately stood and lowered his hood upon her arrival.

On appearance alone, Marius Celata couldn't have been more of a departure from Mercer Frey. He was startlingly young - he couldn't have been more than five years older than Tabby. And he was handsome. With a wealth of dark brown hair, laughing brown eyes, and olive skin, he was the spitting image of a strapping Imperial. All except for his sharp chin and jutting cheek bones.

Tabby lowered her cowl as well. Marius's eyes widened, but he did not leer or undress her with his gaze. Instead, he took her hand gently and kissed it.

"Listener, it's an honor," He said in a low, smooth voice. "Thank you for making the long journey to Riften. Please, make yourself comfortable. We'll have some supper brought in soon."

"Call me Tabby," She said. "And it's really no trouble at all."

Marius smiled crookedly, showing off a row of almost impossibly white teeth. Teeth that were slightly pointed at the ends. "Tabby, you'll have to forgive my gawking. I didn't realize…"

"You were expecting a man."

"Admittedly, yes. But believe me when I say your appearance means nothing to me. I've heard about the great work you've done for the Brotherhood. I consider you an inspiration, in fact."

Tabby was genuinely flattered, though she maintained her cool demeanor. "Thank you."

Finally, she noticed his ears, long and sharply pointed at the ends, and now the rest of his…unique features made perfect sense.

"I know what it's like to be young and thrust into leadership, believe me," "Marius continued. "I'm in your same shoes. And being a mixed-breed doesn't help, as I'm sure you well know."

Tabby blinked. "How did you know I was mixed?"

"Because you notice those things when you are one yourself. Don't try and tell me the first thing you noticed wasn't my ears," Marius teased. She wasn't about to tell him that she was more startled by his teeth.

He scanned her face briefly. "Your mother was Nord, that much is clear. And your father…a Breton?"

"Not exactly. A Reachman."

He nodded, appearing to pass no judgement. "I see. My father was a Bosmer. Perhaps that's why I'm so suited to my profession," His grin became more subdued. "But I know you didn't come all this way to discuss our lineages."

"You're correct. What can you tell me about these men wearing Thieves Guild armor kidnapping children in Windhelm?"

Marius grew somber. "After I became Guildmaster, I made some changes. Including changes in personnel. There were some in the Guild who may have fit Mercer's vision, but they certainly didn't fit mine. It seems that some of the people who were expelled from the Guild held on to their armor, and have since taken up another kind of crime."

"Do you know exactly what they're doing with those kids?"

"Something much more sinister than a simple ransom, I'm afraid. I've had my scouts do some digging. We've reason to believe that the Windhelm kidnappings are part of an underground trafficking ring stretching across the entire province."

Tabby's eyebrows shot up. "That's an incredibly serious allegation. What exactly makes you think that?"

"Children have been going missing all over Skyrim. My thieves have noticed children in the wealthy houses we target, filthy and being worked to the bone. We've gotten reports of grand parties where the whores don't seem to be there by choice."

"One of my associates was undercover at one of those parties. He said the exact same thing," Tabby interjected.

"Exactly. And those parties are creating a problem for us. Because several of our wealthy benefactors have been in attendance, and, like the Brotherhood, they blamed us for it. They're threatening to withdraw their protections if it doesn't stop, and that would be a death blow to the Guild."

"But the Guild itself really has nothing to do with it?" Tabby said doubtfully. "How do I know you're not lying to cover your own hide?"

"Tabby, if the Guild were behind the ring, I wouldn't have asked for your help in shutting it down. I know it would be expected for a thief to lie," Marius said sheepishly. "But even under Mercer, this has never been the way we operate. And I think you know that. Besides, it's a new age for the Thieves Guild now that I'm in charge."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you heard of the Gray Fox? He's a personal hero of mine, you know. He was a thief with style. The whole Cyrodiil outfit was a guild with style. I want our guild to have that kind of ethics and honor. And there's nothing honorable about kidnapping children and young women."

Marius was not at all what Tabby would expect from the Master of the Thieves Guild. He was earnest, polite - she even dared to say sincere. There was still the possibility that it was all an act, of course, and Tabby did have a general policy of not trusting anything that came out of a thief's mouth.

But Marius seemed…different. Tabby wasn't sure what his motive would be for messing with the Dark Brotherhood, and if he really did want to foster a relationship between their respective guilds, it was an interesting possibility to be sure.

"I am making the perhaps unwise choice to trust you," Tabby said carefully. "You have the Brotherhood's help on this. And if you don't double cross us, perhaps in the future we can work closely on…other endeavors."

Marius grinned widely. "There's no time to waste, then. My lookouts have reported strange goings-on in the Ratway. I'll look into that and see if there's any connection to this ring. If your associate can get back into one of those parties, we may gain some insight into who the higher ups are."

"I can make that happen. Shall we reconvene in a week's time?"

"I look forward to it."

* * *

Nazir was never thrilled in the first place to be working with the Thieves Guild on a mission that bore no impact whatsoever on the Dark Brotherhood. Now that the mission involved attending a party at the Thalmor Embassay, he had half a mind to quit the Brotherhood altogether.

It wasn't that he thought the exploitation of children wasn't deplorable. Certainly, it was. But it also was certainly _not_ the Brotherhood's business. Why Tabby decided to get them all wrapped up in it was beyond Nazir. Perhaps it was a bizarre sense of honor coming to the surface, or perhaps she had simply been charmed by a slippery new Guildmaster.

Whatever the reason, Nazir again found himself wrapped in finery and hobnobbing with Skyrim's finest. Just like the last party, there was a distressed-looking harem that skewed very young - one girl couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. However, this time Nazir focused more on the other guests' attitudes towards the girls.

There were no jarls there - that would have been a scandal indeed - but there were many prominent businessmen. Nazir recognized Bolli from Riften, and a man who he thought may have been a Silver-Blood. He approached the Silver-Blood first.

"Pretty girls here tonight," Nazir remarked casually.

"Aye, that they are."

"Where do you think they come from?"

The Silver-Blood shrugged. "Runaways? Youngest daughters of impoverished farmers?They must be on the Thalmor payroll, which means they must be living pretty well. Not a bad lifestyle, if you're poor and uneducated."

So he appeared to not know the truth. Bolli, however, was an entirely different story.

"They trick them, or they just take them. No one's going to miss a street urchin, after all. They're probably better fed now anyway. It's better this way, friend. Keeps everyone satisfied."

"Who's 'they'?"

"I don't think the Thalmor are the ones who actually find the girls. That would be beneath them. They get other people to do their dirty work. Thieves Guild, probably. I'd love to keep chatting with you, friend, but I've got fairer company waiting for me." Bolli downed the rest of his wine and turned his attention to Elenwen, the host. "Say, which one's the youngest?"

It was then that Nazir noticed Maven Black-Briar standing alone in a corner, arms crossed and lips pursed. Taking a sip of wine for courage, he approached the matriarch.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Lady Black-Briar?"

"It's simply disgusting," Maven said. "This is trafficking, plain as day. And all these men are either willfully ignorant or are in on it. I may not be the most honest businesswoman, but this is too depraved even for me. Tomorrow I'm telling the Thieves Guild that if they don't stop this immediately, I'm withdrawing my support."

"Are you sure it's the Thieves Guild behind it?"

"How can it not be? Children have been disappearing from Honorhall Orphanage right there in Riften. They're clearly ferreting them through the Ratway and into the hands of the Thalmor."

If that was true, it didn't look good for the Thieves Guild. The trouble was, in a ring of people who thrived on making a dishonest living, who was telling the truth?

There were two other Redguards at the party. One was an obnoxious drunken merchant who didn't merit further consideration. The other was a bulky, warrior-looking type who kept to a corner, seeming visibly uncomfortable. Nazir couldn't be sure, but he suspected he wasn't the only who hadn't gotten a legitimate invitation to this party. Curiosity drove him to approach his fellow outsider.

"You're not just here to enjoy the party either, are you?" Nazir said casually.

The other Redguard paused. "Perhaps."

"Do you know anything about those girls?" Nazir gestured to the escorts.

The warrior shook his head. "Not why I'm here."

"Then why are you here?"

He gave Nazir a steely look. "Can't say. You trying to help those girls?"

"Begrudgingly, yes. They're being trafficked. We just don't know by whom."

"An admirable cause. I can't do anything for you now. Got a mission of my own. But if you need help in the future, you can find me in Whiterun. In Jorrvaskr."

"Why would you help me?"

"A true Redguard takes care of his own."

Nazir clapped his kinsman on the shouler, nodding in gratitude. "It'd be an honor. The name's Nazir, friend."

"Azzam." He said proudly. "Born and raised in the Alik'r."

"As was I," Nazir said. "It's a pleasure to meet a fellow brother of the sands."

Just then, the drunken Redguard merchant stood up on one of the fine oak tables and began loudly ranting about the quality of the wine. Temporarily distracted, Nazir turned back to Azzam to remark about the stupidity of the lout. Except Azzam was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Tabby had instructed Nazir to report his findings to the Guild, as she was off on her own mission. As an insult to injury, his welcome in the Ratway was particularly frigid.

"A couple of street urchins that no one gives a rat's ass about have gone missing? Truly heartbreaking," Vex sneered at him. "Go cry about it to someone else."

"I'm only doing what I was told, you nasty shrew," Nazir said. "Are you going to do something about it or not?"

"Why do you even care? This isn't the Guild's business, and it isn't the Brotherhood's either. You and I both know that Marius is only playing along with this because he's dying to fuck that crazy little twat."

Nazir's hand flew to his scimitar. "Call my Listener a 'crazy little twat' again."

Vex smirked. "Oh, I see. That's why you're playing nice, too."

"That's enough, Vex," Brynjolf's voice boomed from across the Ragged Flagon. "You remember what Marius said. We treat our guests with respect." He turned to Nazir. "My apologies, friend."

"If this is how the Guild is trying to build relationships with the Brotherhood, you're doing an excellent job." Nazir deadpanned.

"It won't happen again. Now, rest assured that I take this situation seriously, even if some of my colleagues do not," He cast a pointed look at Vex, who rolled her eyes and stalked away. "All noble intentions aside, the fact that we're being blamed for this is just plain bad for business. Maven said that children have been disappearing from Honorhall, you said? I'll go talk to Constance Michel. She's the proprietor of the orphanage."

"I'll accompany you, if you don't mind."

Brynjolf smiled mirthlessly. "You don't believe I'll actually do it."

"I still don't quite believe you're not behind the whole lot. But go ahead - convince me."

Nazir followed Brynjolf up a ladder located in the Guild's living quarters, depositing them in a fake coffin in the local graveyard. After checking both ways, he and Brynjolf casually sauntered out of the mausoleum and into the open air.

"How long has Mercer Frey been out?"

Brynjolf exhaled heavily. "Not quite a month. Already seems like a lifetime ago, to be frank."

"And why's that?"

"Marius has shaken things up quite a bit since coming to power. Our days of shaking down shopkeepers and extorting teenagers are over. Now we steal from the rich, and protect the poor. Kid's got a sense of honor I've never seen in a thief."

Nazir smiled ruefully. "Our Listener's got a sense of honor I've never seen in an assassin."

"If you don't mind me asking, how are things going with your new head of household?"

"Far better than expected." Nazir said. "Of course, she's inexperienced and at times foolish, as most seventeen year olds are. But truthfully, she's brought us back from the brink of destruction. I might even dare say we're thriving now.

Brynjolf nodded in agreement. "The same with Marius. We may grumble about his straight-laced take on thievery, but the truth is we're enjoying a lick of success we haven't had in years."

Constance Michel, an attractive young Redguard, looked positively haggard. She slouched over, as if in defeat, and her eyes looked as if she had been crying.

"What's this," She said angrily as Nazir and Brynjolf entered. "Come to kidnap more of my charges?"

Brynjolf raised his hands in a show of goodwill. "Constance, I swear on my grandmother's grave that this wasn't the Guild's doing. You know as well as I do how much Marius admires your work."

Constance crossed her arms over her chest. "It's bad enough that half of my kids end up joining your lot once they come of age. Now they've been disappearing right off the streets, never to be heard from again. If it's not you, then who is it?"

"That's what we're trying to get to the bottom of, lass. But we can't do that unless you tell us what you know about the disappearances."

"Fine," Constance huffed. "It's not like I know much, to tell you the truth. I've lost three kids now. They go for walks around town and never return. I've searched all over town, but of course the guard won't help me search the countryside. They don't give a damn that my children are missing."

"And they haven't left behind any clues as to where they went?" Brynjolf asked.

"None that I've found. I keep the children inside at all times now, unless they're with me. No more wandering about without supervision. This town is much more sinister than I ever imagined."

"Thank you for your time, Constance. The Guild is investigating this matter," Brynjolf promised. "We'll keep you informed of any updates."

"That didn't seem particularly helpful," Nazir said as they left the orphanage.

"No, but at least we've done some damage control. I'll put a couple scouts on alert for any suspicious characters about town. Now, let's see if your boss has made any more progress than we have."


	22. Chapter 22: Corruption

Two thieves and three assassins walked into a tavern. Nazir brought meads for the other four gathered around a creaky table in the Ragged Flagon, earning a perplexed look from Marius as the Redguard passed a tankard to Babette.

Babette smiled, revealing her tiny fangs. "Don't worry, dear. I may look like a tot, but I'm older than the Gray Fox."

"So what did the lasses discover on their Windhelm expedition?" Brynjolf asked.

Babette looked to Tabby, who took a long sip of mead before speaking. "We staked out the house where Babette was kidnapped. We didn't see any children brought through there, but there were two men who entered and left the house on numerous occasions. And they were definitely wearing Thieves Guild armor."

Marius exhaled sharply. "Did you get a look at their faces?"

"I'm afraid not. But that's not all. There was someone else who paid a visit to the house."

Tabby paused, sharing an uneasy look with Babette.

"Well? Who was it?"

"Savos Aren."

"The Archmage?" Marius's ears pricked violently, and the whole table fell silent for a moment.

"Is he one of the traffickers?" Brynjolf asked. "How does have the time for that?"

"No, no. We think he's just a client. Well, _was_ a client."

"What happened?"

"Babette tipped off Viola Giordano, resident gossip of Windhelm. She was practically beside herself that she got to be the one to alert the guards that the Archmage was partaking in an illegal child prostitution ring."

"We were a bit far away from the action, but from our viewpoint it looked like he was caught red-handed when the guards burst in," Babette added.

"And what became of the children?" Marius asked.

"The guards were giving them blankets and trying to calm them when we left," Tabby said. "It looked like they were going to make sure they were alright."

"So, that's one trafficking den shut down," Nazir said. "But surely there are many more that we're not even aware of."

Marius cleared his throat. "I was able to, ah, coax some of the lowlifes in the Ratway into speaking with me for a minute. They've seen at least ten children and young women smuggled through the Ratway, most of them drugged."

"Who was with them?"

"In some cases, more Thieves Guild defects. But they also spoke of people in long robes and hoods."

"Long robes and hoods?" Tabby frowned. "That could mean anything. Mages? Priests? Necromancers?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but we're going to find out." Marius promised. "I've got the Ratway on lockdown until further notice. Brynjolf and I will do some more investigating to see who's behind the smuggling. In the meantime, why don't you see how far this ring extends. If it extends out west, we've got a much bigger problem on our hands than we thought."

Tabby nodded. "That I can do." She turned to Nazir and Babette. "You two ought to go back to Dawnstar. Cicero's been in charge for far longer than necessary."

"You'll be alright on your own, Listener?" Babette asked.

"Of course she will," Marius answered for her. "I've got every faith in your fearless leader."

Nazir did not look impressed, but he didn't say anything as the group parted ways. But as he and Babette prepared to return to Dawnstar and Tabby set course for Whiterun, he pulled her aside.

"Please be careful."

"Since when do I need to be told to be careful?"

"Since I think that you're trusting these thieves too easily. Especially Marius."

"Marius is genuine."

"That's just it. He's _too_ genuine."

Tabby scoffed in response.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"So what if I did?"

"Stop acting like a child. You're damn lucky the rest of the Brotherhood can't see you right now."

That struck a nerve with Tabby, as Nazir surely knew it would. She fell silent, and Nazir continued.

"Now see here. Marius looks to be a charming fellow, and you seem quite taken by him…"

"I am nothing of the sort!"

"Well, that's neither here nor there. The point is, you don't know him, and you have no idea what his true motives are." Nazir exhaled deeply. "Listener. You've already caught the people who kidnapped Babette. You've avenged the Brotherhood. Can't you just come back to Dawnstar with us and forget the whole thing?"

"No, I cannot."

Nazir threw up his hands.

"For Sithis' sake, Tabby!"

"I have my reasons. If this improves relationships with the Guild, increases our network and our resources, I think that's a good thing."

"There are other, much less hare-brained ways to accomplish that."

"I can't walk away and let those children suffer."

"And that's very noble. But you need to realize that you are putting yourself - and by extension, the Brotherhood - at unnecessary risk."

Tabby was quiet again, but she wasn't fuming like before. When she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

"I know what it's like to have your childhood ripped away from you," She said, voice wavering ever so slightly. "To suffer that profoundly at such a young age. And I would go to Oblivion and back to make sure no other child is doomed to a similar fate."

Nazir put his hand on her shoulder. "My childhood ended at a young age as well. We all cope in our different ways."

"And this is mine."

"And I respect that. Just, as I said…be careful. Don't assume anyone's watching out for you but yourself."

Tabby muttered an agreement so that Nazir would leave. She did not want to get into the fact that she had operated under that assumption for the first sixteen years of her life. She was warming up to the idea of someday telling Nazir where she had been before the Brotherhood. But that day was not today.

"It's not bad advice, you know."

Tabby whipped around to spot Marius standing about ten feet behind her.

"Where did you come from?"

"From the Cistern," He said, despite the fact that he was not standing near the doorway. Tabby chose not to press it further.

"How much did you hear?"

"Just what Nazir said. About not assuming anyone's intentions."

"Are you saying that you have bad intentions?"

"Me? Listener, I assure you that my intentions are nothing but noble." Marius smiled - or perhaps smirked - and looked deep into Tabby's eyes. A strange feeling coursed through her, almost but not quite excitement.

"That's exactly what someone who was up to no good would say."

The Guildmaster laughed. "A sharp point. I won't distract you any further. All I'm saying is that true allies are hard to find these days, but are worth their weight in gold."

 _And are you a true ally?_ Tabby wanted to ask, but she couldn't force the words from her lips. She suddenly felt shy around the Guildmaster, a sensation she hadn't experienced since well before she took over the Dark Brotherhood. It was very unbecoming of a Listener. She was damn lucky Nazir couldn't see her right now.

* * *

As it happened, Tabby had very few real leads in Whiterun. She kept her eyes peeled for any suspicious activity, anything like the house she and Babette had busted in Windhelm. Nothing.

Feeling discouraged, she decided to try a different strategy. The last time she sat back and listened to the rumor mongering at the Bannered Mare, it had led her straight to the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps this time it would lead her to the western ring. Exchanging her armor for plainclothes, though keeping them stowed close to her in her satchel, she took a seat at the bar.

Sure enough, after about twenty minutes she had her answer. A defeated-looking man took a seat at the bar next to Tabby.

"I'm looking for a young girl," He explained to the barkeep. "She's disappeared from Rorikstead.

"Your daughter?"

"No. My student. Her father couldn't give less of a damn that she's missing. One less mouth to feed is surely all he's thinking."

Another good for nothing father failing to do right by his daughter. Tabby turned to him, intrigued. "Was she kidnapped?"

"I've got no evidence one way or the other, but I do know she went missing right after two Vigilants of Stendarr passed through town. It's well known that not all of them are as honest as they claim to be."

"Sir, I don't want to alarm you. But I happen to be investigating a trafficking ring at the moment."

The man swallowed hard. "You think the Vigilants could be in on it?"

"I think I'm not going to rule anything out as a possibility."

"Well, if during your investigation you find anything about my girl, please let me know. My name is Jouane Manette, from Rorikstead. Her name is Sissel. Little Nord girl, brown hair and eyes. Sweet as honeycomb."

"I will.

From the information she had, it was difficult to say for sure that Sissel's disappearance was linked to the trafficking ring. But if it was, it meant that it did in fact extend to the west, and that the Vigilants of Stendarr could be implicated. Tabby took to the streets once again to ponder this, and was met with another stroke of luck.

She left the city gates to get some fresher air. At the stables, she spotted one of the temple's priests - Jenssen, she believed - speaking with a bruised, crying girl, who looked to be two or three years younger than Tabby. She was too far away to hear their words, but the girl was nodding in agreement to whatever he was saying. Tabby watched as Jenssen led her to a waiting carriage, where another teenage girl was already seated.

Something about the scene seemed off. Tabby was suspicious, and she knew there was only one way to confirm those suspicions. Without hesitation, she marched up to Acolyte Jenssen.

"Excuse me, sir? I heard you're the one to talk to for work."

Jenssen smiled widely. "You've come to the right place, my dear. And your timing is impeccable. We were just about to leave without you."

"What exactly will I be doing?"

"You'll be part of a new jobs program coordinated by all the temples in Skyrim. We need young women all over the province to help with cleaning, childcare, basic healing - you know, women's duties."

Tabby suppressed an eye roll. "Of course."

"You'll receive lodging and a wage of 100 Septims a day, with a minimum six month commitment. More than enough to send some coin home to your family."

"I'm in."

"Great to hear." Jenssen paused. "But I almost forgot to ask - how old are you? The program is only open to girls sixteen and under."

"I'm fifteen," Tabby lied smoothly. "No problem there."

He took her at her word, and she climbed into the carriage without knowing where it was going. They waited there for about thirty more minutes, until two men in full armor and helmet approached the carriage.

"Got three here," Jenssen said.

The men took a minute to look the girls up and down. Then one of them spoke. "That one to Markarth," He said as he pointed at the bruised girl. "The other to Riften. And this one," He paused, giving Tabby an extra moment of consideration. "Solitude."

They went to Riften first, where a similarly armored man collected the first girl. She went with him willingly, no idea of what was about to happen. A wave of guilt washed over Tabby. She couldn't blow her cover, which meant there was nothing she could do to help the other girls.

Several long days later, Tabby and Jenssen arrived at Katla's Farm outside Solitude. On cue, another suit of armor appeared to whisk her away.

They walked side by side in silence until they reached Castle Dour. Tabby bristled, praying that the various Oculatus agents milling about the courtyard wouldn't recognize her. But she was in luck - they made no acknowledgment. In fact, some seemed to be actively pretending she and the armored man weren't there.

He led her into the dungeons - not much of a surprise there. But instead of depositing her in a cell, he unlocked the door to a small room, containing only a bed and a set of shackles on the wall.

Tabby feigned confusion. "This isn't the temple…?"

"There's a matter to settle before you can start work at the temple," The suit of armor said. "The program provided you with food, lodging, and transportation on the way to your work site. That all costs a significant sum of money."

"But I haven't got any money…"

"We figured as much. Which is why you're going to work to pay off your debt."

"I don't understand. Can't you take it out of my wages at the temple?"

"I'm afraid that's not an option." The man removed his helmet and took a step towards her. "We require another type of work to pay us back."

Tabby took one step back. She was still maintaining the innocent young girl act, but she was starting to get nervous. If he came much closer she would have no choice but to blow her cover.

"The boss man will be especially pleased with you. You're exactly his type." He paused to start unbuckling his armor. "You'll meet him later. In the meantime, you can start paying off your debt right now."

That was enough for Tabby. She unsheathed the Blade of Woe that had been concealed beneath her skirt and lunged at him. Getting a clean slash on his throat, she stepped back and watched as he bled out. When he finally went down, she moved to search the body.

A ring of keys - surely her ticket out. And two pieces of parchment. The first was addressed to Jarl Elisif's steward, reminding him of his upcoming "haircut" at Castle Dour the following day. The other was a brief letter:

 _Keep the girls coming. These westerners seem to prefer them a bit older. Look for teenagers trying to escape overbearing fathers or mean boyfriends. And Dunmer for our good friend in Falkreath. The western market is proving to be extremely profitable, and it's important we give them exactly what they want._

 _\- L_

Sickened, Tabby shoved both notes in her pocket and left the room without a second glance at the body in the corner. She wanted a word with the steward.

* * *

After stealing into his bedchamber late that night, it was child's play to get him to talk. All she had to do was brandish her dagger to get the steward to admit that he and several high-ranking Oculatus officers made use of the Castle Dour "den," and that there were others in cities scattered across the province.

"Where are the other dens?"

"I don't know all of them. I'm just a client. I have no part in procuring the girls, I promise!"

"Procuring? Do you mean kidnapping? And by client, do you mean rapist?"

"Listen, I got in way over my head. I was lonely, and they promised me as much company as I could wish for. I didn't mean to hurt anyone…"

"Save it. You're not going to win my sympathy. And if you're not going to tell me anything useful, I don't see why you should get my mercy either."

"Markarth! There's a den in Markarth!" He yelped quickly. Tabby narrowed her eyes.

"How do I know you're not lying to me so I'll spare you?"

"I swear it! Jenssen, that priest from Whiterun? He's the one who collects the girls and drops them off. He makes three stops: Riften, Solitude, and Markarth."

He was right. That was exactly the route Jenssen had taken when Tabby climbed into his wagon. Tabby pointed the tip of her dagger at his heart. "I will let you live," She began. "Once you write a full confession, addressed to Jarl Elisif."

The steward went pale. "Please," He whined. "I'll lose my job. I might even go to jail."

"Is death preferable? Because that can certainly be arranged."

He paused, as if actually weighing his options. "No," He said finally. "I'll do it."

An hour later, after supervising the writing exercise and slipping it under Elisif's door, Tabby changed back into her armor, posted a letter to Marius, and was reluctantly en route to return to Markarth.

She had hoped to never set foot in that mess of a city again, not after she barely made it out the first time. But, again, _of course_ Markarth was hiding a trafficking ring on top of everything else.


	23. Chapter 23: Hypocrisy

If nothing else, Tabby was able to delight her grandmother with her return. Bothela had obviously been under the impression that she would never see Tabby again, and insisted that she stay at the shop for her duration in Markarth.

"All this _investigating_ ," Bothela clucked, shaking her head. "Why can't you just stay out of trouble, like Muiri here?"

Her other reunion was a bit more useful to the mission: her old pal Yngvar, almost comically spooked by Tabby's Dark Brotherhood affiliation and her cold-blooded murder of Thonar, jumped at the chance to win her favor.

"Come to think of it, there have been a lot of outsiders coming in and out lately," He offered. "Guards have been looking the other way. They do that for a lot of things in this city, but never for outsiders."

"Where do these outsiders go? What do they look like?"

"Can't tell you much about what they look like. Always got a full set of armor on, including a helmet. They almost always have girls with them though. I usually see them heading in the direction of the Warrens, but I never gave them much thought."

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"The Warrens. Are you stupid?"

"Well, they don't hire me for my smarts."

Even though she took pride in her ability to keep herself alive, Tabby was glad she brought Yngvar on this expedition. The various occupants of the Warrens immediately set their sights on them as they entered. She could see it in their eyes: _can I rob them, how much is that dagger worth, can I beat that Nord brute in a fight…_ But no one approached them. Not even the Vigilant of Stendarr sticking out like a sore thumb in the back of the cavern.

"I'm going to need to take a look inside those quarters," Yngvar growled.

The Vigilant's hand flew to his mace. "I'm afraid you can't do that. That's private property."

"'Private property' goes out the window when you've kidnapped and abused young girls," Tabby accused.

The Vigilant sputtered. "That's _quite_ the accusation. Stendarr does not look kindly on bold lies such as that."

The door creaked open slightly, and a second Vigilant's head poked through the opening. "What in Oblivion's name is going on out here?"

Yngvar grabbed the door and wrenched open before either of the men could stop him, revealing a young Nord girl, no more than ten years old, with brown hair and eyes. She sat in the corner, quivering, with knees drawn up to her chest.

"Sissel?" Tabby called out. The little girl nodded.

"Enough of this nonsense," The first Vigilant said, drawing his mace. He took a swing at Yngvar, who sidestepped expertly. Drawing his warhammer from his back, he raised it above his head and brought it down on the Vigilant, knocking him to the ground.

The other Vigilant a steel sword and also went after Yngvar, ignoring Tabby completely. She took a few steps into the cavern and drew her bow. It was a bit close range for liking, but it would have to do. As Yngvar grappled with the two men, she lined up her shot and let it fly. She hit the first Vigilant in the shoulder, causing him to drop his mace with a scream. That was Yngvar's window to deliver the killing blow.

The other Vigilant was apparently not as brave as the first. Seeing his comrade fall, he dropped his sword and raised his hands in the air.

"I yield. I yield!"

Tabby sheathed her bow, but Yngvar kept his hammer squarely in his hands.

"Stand down, Yngvar. He's more useful to us alive. _For the moment_ ," She said with a glare at the Vigilant.

"Stendarr smiles upon those who show mercy…"

Tabby laughed sharply. "You're not really in a position to preach to us about Stendarr, my friend."

"Disgusting hypocrite," Yngvar interjected. Tabby raised her eyebrows. So he wasn't hired for his smarts, but he did know the word 'hypocrite.'

"You have to understand! The Vigilants don't pay us much at all, and my family is hungry. I had to get some money to send back to them."

"Normal people in your position pick crops or chop firewood. You had a choice." Tabby said coldly. "I'm not interested in your sob story. If you want to walk out of here alive, you can tell me who 'L' is."

"He's the man in charge. The big boss. Nobody knows his real name, or has even seen him. Except for maybe his second in command."

"Which is?"

The Vigilant shook his head. "I don't know that, either. Just that they operate out of Riften." Sensing Tabby's irritation, he added, "I'm just a grunt. I help deliver the girls. The den leaders coordinate with the clients and the upper command.

"Who are the den leaders?"

"They're the fellows in the full suits of armor. There's one for every den, plus Whiterun as the main transit city. Nobody knows who they actually are under those helmets."

"By Sithis. You're really no help at all, are you?"

"I can tell you who some of the major western clients are. That's something, right?"

"It's a start."

"Two jarls are in on it. Falkreath, and Markarth."

Yngvar let out a low whistle. " _Shor's beard_. This is a lot messier than I thought."

"And the Thalmor representative in Markarth," The Vigilant contined. "Ondolemar. I would think twice before going after him though. He's one of the cruelest, most violent people I've ever crossed paths with."

"Do you have any proof of this?" Tabby asked.

The Vigilant reached into his pocket and produced three appointment slips exactly like the Solitude steward's, with both jarls' and Ondolemar's names on them.

"There. This is all I know. I swear it. Now will you let me go?"

Tabby and Yngvar exchanged glances. "If we let you go, how are we supposed to know that you won't just go right back out there and rejoin the ring?" Yngvar said.

"I'm done. I promise. It's not worth it. I'll feed my family some other way."

"And that's all well and good, but you've already caused irreparable harm to Sithis knows how many girls. Why should you get to just move on and get a fresh start?" Tabby said.

The Vigilant's eyes widened, and he began to back away. "You said you would leave me alive."

"I said I would. For the moment. And that moment has passed."

The Vigilant tried to run, but Yngvar threw him to the ground. Tabby knelt before him, raising her dagger high before plunging it into his heart.

"One less piece of garbage in this world." She turned back into the cavern. "Sissel? It's safe now. Can you come out here?" Tabby lowered her cowl in an attempt to look less frightening. She held out her hand. "We're not going to hurt you. I know your teacher. Jouane Manette? He asked me to help him find you."

"You know Jouane?" Sissel asked in a timid voice.

"I do. He's very worried. He went all the way to Whiterun to look for you."

"He did?"

"Yes. We can take you back to Whiterun to be with him. Or back to Rorikstead to your father."

"Whiterun," Sissel said quickly. "Take me to Whiterun."

"Can you tell us what happened to you first? How you got to Markarth?"

"I was playing outside when the bad men came," Sissel began. "They said they were going to stay the night at the inn before moving on."

"Who were these bad men?"

Sissel pointed at the dead Vigilant. "Him. And another one just like him. They talked to me and my sister for a long time. I thought they were nice. But then my sister went inside, and they said they wanted to show me something around the corner."

"And then?"

Sissel's voice quivered. "And then they grabbed me. Carried me to the cart, and took me all the way to Markarth. I've been stuck in this nasty room ever since. They wouldn't talk to me, and barely even fed me. They just stood watch all day and all night to make sure I didn't try to escape."

"They must have been saving her for someone in particular," Yngvar murmured to Tabby. Thank Sithis they had gotten there on time.

"You take the girl and go somewhere safe," Tabby said to Yngvar. "I'll be along later."

"Where are you going?"

"Understone Keep."

"By yourself? The Vigilant was right, you know. We've all heard the terrible things Ondolemar has done."

"All the more reason for me to confront him. So I can kill him."

"Let me go, Tabby. It's too dangerous."

"I'm touched by your chivalry. But I need to be the one to do this."

On the trek to Understone Keep, Tabby pondered what approach she should take. Corner the jarl as he sleeps? Poison Ondolemar before he has a chance to defend himself? But crimes such as these didn't deserve to be dealt with in the shadows. She wanted the perpetrators to suffer a public fall from grace.

Therefore, the natural approach was to walk up to the jarl's throne and shove his appointment slip in his face.

The color drained from Igmund's face instantly. His defense, of course, was to immediately throw the Thalmor to the dogs. "I never would have done any of this if it weren't for Ondolemar," He sputtered. "He pressured me into trying it. And he expected me to continue in that lifestyle. At least I refused to do it…his way."

"And what way might that be?"

"Ondolemar doesn't just buy a girl for the night. He buys her for good. Not that they last very long with him."

Tabby's lips curled in disgust. "He _kills_ them?

From across the hall, a middle-aged Nord man scoffed. "I never thought I'd see the day that a Dark Brotherhood assassin shows moral outrage over a whore getting killed."

"I thought I recognized that armor," Jarl Igmund said. "You've sure got some nerve, waltzing into my keep to accuse me of such things, and in Dark Brotherhood armor no less."

"We're getting a bit off topic, aren't we?" Tabby said irritably. The Nord man threw up his hands.

"Believe me, I hate the Thalmor every bit as you do. I just call out hypocrisy when I see it."

There was that word again. Tabby gritted her teeth. "I enjoy killing people, I'll admit that. Death is beautiful. But you don't see me slaughtering children for pleasure. I only kill when I have a reason. Business, revenge, convenience. Now," She said, turning back to the jarl. "About Ondolemar."

"He doesn't just…use the girls," Igmund continued uneasily. "He tortures them. And then when he's bored, he brutally murders them. Then he's ready to buy a new one. Now, how about giving me those appointment slips?"

"I will give them to you. If you look the other way while I kill Ondolemar."

The jarl hesitated. "If he turns up dead in my Keep, it could spark another Thalmor war."

"You didn't kill him. A Dark Brotherhood assassin did. Slipped in under the cover of night and slit his throat as he slept. There was nothing you could do. It's not your fault a disgruntled Talos worshipper put a contract on him."

"They'll wonder why I didn't provide him better protection."

"And you'll tell them that if the Brotherhood can kill the Emperor, they can kill a prick of a Thalmor."

That made the Nord across the hall erupt into a belly laugh. The jarl's tension seemed to dissipate ever so slightly.

"Very well. If you think you can go head to head with Ondolemar and win, by all means."

The jarl's steward handed over a spare key to Ondolemar's room. There was no time to think about what she was about to do. Otherwise, she would never muster the gall to do it. Ready for an ambush, she threw open the door as hard as she could with dagger drawn.

She had one advantage: Ondolemar was unarmored. Wearing only a pair of linen pants, his state of undress significantly leveled the playing field. Behind him on the bed lay one of the teenage girls from Whiterun, now gagged and bound to Ondolemar's headboard.

Clearly taken by surprise, Ondolemar charged her without even stopping to pick up a weapon. She stabbed him in the gut as he tackled her to the ground, but missed any vital organs. He wrestled her for the dagger as blood poured out of his chest. Tabby kicked him as hard as she could in the wound, sending him sprawling backwards.

She could have dealt the killing blow right there. Instead, she drove the Blade of Woe all the way through his arm and into a crack in the floor, earning an anguished howl from the Altmer. He attempted to free himself by pulling the blade out of his arm, but apparently couldn't stomach it.

"Not so fun when you're on the other end of the blade, is it?" Tabby taunted him from just outside of his reach.

"Human swine," Ondolemar spat. "You're going to be very sorry."

"I'm not sure you're in a position to be making threats right now. The only reason you're still alive is that I'm not quite done with you yet. If those girls are made to suffer a torturous death, then so will you."

"Who are you?"

"A concerned citizen. So tell me, what's it like to be a sadistic sack of horker shit?"

"You dare to speak to me that way?" Ondolemar shrieked.

Tabby sighed. "You're no fun to torture at all. That, or torture isn't really my thing. At any rate, you bore me _and_ you disgust me. You're dismissed."

"Stop! Release me at once!" The Thalmor cried. Ignoring him, Tabby backed up a few steps to draw her bow before shooting him cleanly in the eye.

Now to tend to the girl. Gently, Tabby unbound her hands and removed the gag from her mouth.

"Are you alright?"

The girl didn't respond, instead staring blankly up at the ceiling. She was clearly traumatized. While Tabby had arrived in Markarth in time to rescue Sissel from the brunt of the abuse, it appeared the same was not true for this poor girl.

"Come on, you've got to walk. I'll help you." She managed to get the girl to sit, then stand on shaky feet. Tabby put the girl's arm around her shoulder, and unsteadily they made for the door.

"Tell me about yourself," Tabby said, attempting to bring a piece of her back. "What's your name?"

"Lucretia," She said in a barely audible whisper.

"That's a lovely name. My name is Tabby. How old are you, Lucretia?"

"Fifteen."

"You're not much younger than me."

"Really?"

"Really. When I was fifteen, I lived in Anvil. Have you ever been to Cyrodiil?"

"No."

Tabby paused to cast a withering look at the jarl as they made it to the front door of the keep. "My friend and I are going to take you back to Whiterun. Unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go?"

"I can't go back to Whiterun," She whimpered, her first multi-word utterance thus far. "My stepfather will kill me if I do."

By the gods. This girl couldn't catch a break. "Why?"

"Ma left last spring to fight with the Legion. She never came back. She had left me her jewels for safekeeping. My stepfather wanted to sell them to buy a horse, but I wouldn't let him. They're the last thing I have of hers. So he beat me. And I took the jewels and ran."

"Is that where those bruises came from?" Tabby asked. Lucretia nodded.

"If you don't want to stay in Markarth, I completely understand. But if you do, I know someone who would take good care of you."

"Anywhere is better than Whiterun."

So Tabby helped her across town and up the stairs to the Hag's Cure. Surprisingly, she found Bothela sitting by the fire with Yngvar and Sissel.

Yngvar seemed just as surprised as she did. "You not only made it out of there in one piece, but you rescued the girl too?"

"And you didn't believe in me." Tabby said smugly before turning to her grandmother. "This is Lucretia. She needs somewhere to stay. You need a new grandchild. Can you take her?"

"I can help around the shop," Lucretia offered shyly.

Bothela grinned ear to ear. It was a lovely smile, even if it was missing a few teeth. "You're hired. As shopgirl and granddaughter."

So it was settled. It was time to say goodbye to Bothela and Yngvar, and return Sissel to Whiterun.

"I know you hate Markarth," Bothela said as she embraced Tabby. "But now that you've got friends here, perhaps you'll pity us and make a visit again?"

"I won't rule it out completely," Tabby offered.

"I'll take what I can get. Old gods keep you, Eilis."

* * *

Marius probably could have apprehended the second in command alone. He did best Mercer Frey, after all. Still, he felt much more confident with a world class assassin by his side. That, and he was eager to enjoy the company of said assassin.

He would somewhat sheepishly admit from what he had heard of the Listener, he expected a man of at least thirty upon their first meeting. He knew the Listener was intelligent, confident. Knew how to command a room. And a top rate archer to boot.

So when the Listener was a young, stunningly beautiful girl, he realized he had to adjust his preconceived notions a bit. For the young woman behind that cowl was truly a force to be reckoned with, and Marius sure as hell wanted her on his side.

Admittedly, he had lied to her. He had heard her entire exchange with Nazir after their meeting in the Ragged Flagon. So he knew that she had experienced hardship in her life. In a way, it made sense. Someone that young could only carry themselves with such maturity if they had to grow up too soon. And he knew that she really cared about these trafficked girls. So the fearsome assassin did have a noble heart after all.

The Redguard and the vampire got there first, having been summoned to assist in the final stages. He knew they were eager for this whole thing to be over. With any luck, it would be soon.

She was late arriving back to Riften by about half a day; something about returning one of the kidnapped girls to Whiterun, then getting caught up in her reunion with her concerned teacher.

No matter, she was back, they had their target, and now a unique opportunity lay in front of them: for the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood to show that they could not just play nice, but thrive in cooperation.

It was decided that just the two of them would go. He led the way, but Tabby seemed to know her way around Riften already. He watched, bewildered, as she paused to make quick but familiar conversation with the blacksmith.

"You know him?"

"Balimund? He's an old friend."

"That's…an unlikely pairing. How did you…nevermind. We're here."

"You're serious."

"Indeed I am."

"Haelga's Bunkhouse?!"

He had always known there was something off about Haelga. The other thieves would laugh off her wonton advances towards them, but Marius always found her demeanor unnerving. The fact that she had once cupped his balls in the middle of a conversation certainly didn't help, either.

"Not the first person I would have suspected, either. But I can't say it's a complete shock to me."

"Does she know how to fight?" Tabby asked.

"I don't think so. But best be prepared for anything, just in case."

But Marius himself couldn't have possibly been prepared for what lay behind the Bunkhouse doors. Nearly every room contained an imprisoned girl, in various states of undress and distress. Tabby set to work releasing all of them as Haelga stood by, mouth agape.

Marius took to confronting her. "It's over, Haelga. The Thieves Guild is done taking the fall for your sick little empire."

In the corner, Haelga's niece stood trembling. "I tried to stop her. Told her Dibella would never approve of something like this. But she insisted the more 'love' she brought to Riften, the better."

"And the more coin to feed your ungrateful mouth with," Haelga muttered darkly.

"Enough," Marius said. "You'd better tell us who your boss is. Unless you'd like to see the Bunkhouse burnt to the ground."

"I thought the Guild's strong-arming days were over."

"This is different. And you know that."

"You'd better go get that torch, then. I'm not talking."

"Arson was a poor choice of threat," Tabby chimed in. She descended the stairs, leading a bedraggled line of girls. "Too easy to accidentally burn down the whole city."

"Who is she?" Svana asked. "She's not wearing Thieves Guild armor."

"Don't worry about it," Tabby said. "Marius, none of these girls said they came from Honorhall."

"Do you think I'm dense enough to keep the Honorhall children right here in Riften?" Haelga seemed genuinely offended. "That's what the Ratway is for."

"Uh-huh. And where do they go after the Ratway?"

The Bunkhouse owner pressed her lips together, perhaps realizing she had already said too much.

"Well, Haelga. I didn't want to do this. But you're leaving us little choice," Tabby said. She strolled up to her, and without missing a beat punched her square in the face.

Blood immediately poured from Haelga's nose. She doubled over, groaning in pain. Svana gave a frightened squeal from her corner. Tabby, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. She laughed cruelly.

"Ready to talk? No? I can keep going. Let's find out if it's as easy to practice those Dibellan arts when you've got the face of a frost troll."

Damn, was she one hell of a woman.

It took two more of Tabby's hits, one to the eye and one splitting the lip, before Haelga finally gave in.

"Enough, enough! I'll tell you. Even though it means he'll kill me. I handle almost all of the day-to-day operations. Budgeting, routing, all of that. My boss provides the oversight. Gives the commands. He operates out of an abandoned fort east of Solitude."

"Tell us his name," Marius growled.

"Luven."

That name meant nothing to Marius. But it did to Tabby. She froze in her tracks, eyes widening to almost twice their size. Marius heard her breathe quicken and become shallow.

"No. No. No no no no no no no…."

She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and pulled, hard. Then she lunged for the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

"Looks like your partner's gone mad." Haelga smirked through her bruises. "Serves her damn right."

"You'll get yours," Marius glared at her. "I'm sending for the guards now."

The Riften guard, proving themselves useful for once, set to work carting Haelga away and taking down names and hometowns of the rescued girls. That left Marius to tend to Tabby.

She was doubled over right outside the door as if punched in the stomach, taking loud, shallow gasps of breath. Marius tried to pat her encouragingly on the back, but she recoiled hard.

"Tabby? Can you tell me what's going on? Try to get a deep breath. That's it."

"Get…me…to Nazir…" She croaked between gasps.

He wanted to help her walk, but she wouldn't allow him to touch her. Marius was resigned to watching her hobble unsteadily to the Flagon's secret entrance, encouraging her to keep breathing.

Nazir, however, didn't know how to help her either. "I've never seen her like this," He said, brow furrowing in concern. "Not even when our entire Sanctuary was massacred. Look at me, Listener. What's going on?"

She managed a deep, loud gulp of air. Shakily, she said, "He's here. In Skyrim. That means nowhere is safe. Maybe I'm better off killing myself before he gets to me."

"Woah, woah, hold on there. Who is 'he?'" Nazir asked.

"Luven," Marius answered for her. "The leader of the trafficking ring. It appears that Tabby knows him. Is that right?"

Tabby ground her teeth together, her fists clenching and unclenching. "You want to know who Luven is? You want to know why I had such a nightmarish childhood? I'll tell you. If you can stomach it."


	24. A Listener's Life

_This chapter contains descriptions of physical and sexual abuse._

* * *

I was born under the sign of the Shadow, in the city of blood and silver. Perhaps that's why death has always followed me wherever I walk in life.

I, the Listener, slayer of Emperors, was born to two nobodies. My mother was a poor Nord girl who was younger than I am now when she fell pregnant. For her, pregnancy was a death sentence. She bled out a few hours after I was born.

My father was a Reachman, and lived in the same abject poverty to which all his non-Forsworn brethren were subject. He worked at the smelter during the day, and at night was a drunk and a gambler and a general waste of space. These are all my grandmother's words, but I can't say I disagree with her given what he did to me.

He fell into a great deal of debt when I was five years old. The collectors were threatening his life, and he had gambled every last Septim away. So to pay off his debts, he pried me out of my screaming grandmother's arms and took me all the way to Falkreath. It must have been a no-brainer to pawn the child he never wanted in order to save his own hide.

I have hazy memories of the day he sold me. My father made me stand before a strange, scary man. The man looked me up and down, made me turn in a circle for him. Then he handed my father a bag of coin.

The last words my father ever said to me were, "Stop your crying, girl. You belong to him now."

That strange, scary man's name was Luven. He took me across the border to Cyrodiil, where he lived alone in a large house in Chorrol. He changed my name to Tabby - why, I still don't know. He gave me my own room with a large bed, and he fed and clothed me. At first, I thought things certainly could have been worse.

Though I was essentially a prisoner, I actually had a fairly normal life in Chorrol. Luven was not kind to me, but neither was he cruel. Truthfully, he wasn't around that much at all.

Because of this, I spent my early childhood largely unsupervised. After I completed my daily chores to roam the town and play with the other children beneath the great oak tree in the middle of town.

Most importantly, Luven taught me how to hunt. Starting at age eight, he would take me into the Great Forest on the weekends. He was greatly pleased by natural aptitude for hunting - I was ten when I brought down my first deer. Those were happy times to me. The hunting trips were the instances when Luven was the kindest to me. And I constantly ached for his affection.

I wouldn't find out the reason until much later in life, but as a child I loved Luven intensely. Almost as much as I love the Night Mother now. He was my whole world, and all I desired was his approval. Looking back, he obviously relished how much I loved him. Probably because nobody else ever would.

Some nights, when he was in a good mood, he would have me sit on his lap after dinner. I realize now he would do this whenever he needed an ego boost. I remember one particular night, him stroking my hair and asking me to lay my head against his chest.

He asked me, "Do you want to live with me forever, Tabby?"

"Yes, Luven. Please."

"Forever will come sooner than you think, Kitten."

It was repulsive, all of it. But at the time I couldn't see that.

A pivotal moment arrived three months before my twelfth birthday, when Luven put me and a small trunk of our belongings in a carriage and drove us across the entire province.

The journey was nothing short of marvelous. I watched the Great Forest melt away into the Heartland, the White Gold Tower standing proud and tall across the Lake Rumare. Then, the fair countryside began to morph into the mystical swamps of the Lower Niben.

Luven finally stopped the carriage at the very end of the continent, a tip of land that extended into the Topal Bay. I looked around in confusion, as nothing surrounded us but bog.

"Under your feet."

I looked down and finally noticed the trap door. Luven pried it open, and I hesitantly made my way down the ladder.

I found myself in an underground lair. Half cave, half furnished dwelling, but overall dank and gloomy. The hairs on my arms and neck pricked up, and it wasn't just the damp chill. I could sense something sinister in the atmosphere.

"What is this place?"

Luven smirked at me. "Welcome to Deepscorn Hollow. It's a family secret passed down for generations, and the time has come for you and I to take up residence here."

"But why?"

"There are many people in this world who would wish me harm. For now we must take refuge here, far from any that would threaten us."

"How long do we have to stay here?"

Luven fixed his gaze on me. "Aren't you happy to be here with me, Tabby?"

I smiled ear to ear. "Of course I am, Luven!"

"That's a good Kitten."

For a few months, life in Deepscorn Hollow wasn't that bad. It wouldn't have been my first choice to live in a cave with only a grown man for company, but Luven frequently let me go to the surface to play in the tall, marshy grass and swim in the bay. When the weather was bad, I stayed inside and read the books in his small library. There were many parts of the lair that I was strictly forbidden from entering, but I accepted his rule without question. I had no idea of any of the horrors that lay beyond closed doors.

Everything changed on my twelfth birthday. That year, there was no gift, no special meal. Instead, Luven summoned me to his bedchamber, previously one of the forbidden areas.

"Look around, Tabby. What do you see?"

He stepped aside, and my eyes shot straight to the red and black coffin in the back of the room.

"Is that…"

"You're a smart girl. Tell me, what does that coffin mean?"

"It means…" My voice shook with fear. "It means you're a vampire."

"Very good." He reached out to stroke my cheek, and I had to stifle a yelp. "What else do you see?"

I tore my eyes from the coffin to scan the room, eventually noticing the items decorating his desk.

"That heart…is it human?"

"Right again."

My heart started racing. "Did you eat them?"

Luven laughed uproariously. "Silly child, I don't eat people. I drink their blood. Most of the time they don't even die. That heart came from my latest target."

"Target?"

"I'm a Crimson Scar, Tabby. We split off from the Dark Brotherhood over two hundred years ago. We've survived near-extinction countless times, and we're slowly growing our numbers. Soon will we will be the greatest assassin syndicate in all of Tamriel. And that's where you come in."

"Are you going to kill me?"

Luven huffed impatiently. "Do you think I would have wasted six years on you if I was going to kill you? No, you stupid twat. You're my new apprentice. You're old enough now, and you've proven yourself as a hunter. Soon you'll be hunting more than just deer. And when you're a little older, I'll give you the same gift I've been blessed with. So you'll truly be mine forever."

I stood speechless. I couldn't comprehend how Luven, my sun and moon, could be saying such terrifying things.

"You really can be dense sometimes," He continued. "How you never noticed I was a vampire. The red eyes never made you pause? The fact that I never go outside during the day? Why did you think your love for me is so strong?"

"What do you mean?"

Luven laughed again. "My Vampire's Seduction. I can make anyone enchanted by me with just a gaze. I've been using it on you for years, and it's why you'll never leave me." He locked eyes with me, his bright red pupils almost pulsating. "Isn't that right, Kitten?"

My affection for him swelled, and my heartbeat slowed. I didn't forget what he had just told me, but suddenly it didn't matter anymore. He was still my Luven.

He drew closer to me and brushed my hair from my neck. "This will only hurt a bit," he said, and sunk his teeth into my neck.

It hurt a lot. Yet I stayed perfectly still as he drank from my exposed neck.

"I always knew your blood would taste exceptional," He said when he was finally done. "Just divine."

Luven was different from then on. He said the time to coddle me was over, and I had to learn the harsh life of an assassin. He started beating me if I didn't complete my chores exactly to his liking, and used me to feed multiple times a week. I was subject to a harsh training schedule: long runs in the morning, hours of sparring and shooting practice in the afternoon. If I made a mistake or took too long, he would scream insults at me. All in all, he was trying to turn in me from a trusting child into a hard-hearted killing machine.

It was working. But not in the way that he thought.

I killed my first man at the age of thirteen. Luven had decided I was ready, and took me to Leyawiin where I was to kill an old beggar whom nobody would miss.

It was an easy kill. I shot him cleanly through the eye from the safety of a nearby tree, and no one was the wiser. But when I watched my arrow hit his mark and the beggar crumple the ground, something ignited in me. The feeling of an ending a life was exhilarating - it felt like all the power in Nirn was in my hands. It was the first time in my life that I felt I had control over my own destiny, and now I could control the fates of others. In that moment, I felt absolutely sure I had found my purpose in life. I was put on this world to be an agent of death.

My thirteenth year was also when Luven's behavior towards me changed from vaguely unnerving to overtly sexual. He would fondle me every chance he got, commenting on my developing body and the fact that I would be a woman soon.

"You haven't hit the peak of your looks yet. We'll let you grow a little more," He once said while eyeing the small mounds that passed as my breasts. "You're going to be a beautiful woman. And I'm going to make sure you're beautiful forever."

By the time I was fourteen, I had killed seven people. Luven still didn't trust me to carry out contracts by myself, but occasionally he would bring me along on his missions to dispatch any witnesses. Sometimes he made me kill random, unlucky souls to further hone my skills. I didn't enjoy this as much. In my mind, there needed to be a reason to kill someone, whether it be personal or a business transaction.

Luven was an unkind master, but he did train me well. At fourteen I was lean, strong, and skilled. I could shoot a bow and arrow better than he could, and I could hold my own with a dagger. To his detriment, he trained me too well.

One evening he came to me as I was falling asleep. I could smell the alcohol on his breath right away - I didn't know that vampires could even get drunk.

"Such a beautiful girl," He slurred, pulling back my covers.

I froze, saying nothing. Praying he would get bored and leave.

"I've watched you grow for so many years now. Been waiting for so many years. I'm tired of waiting."

"Waiting for what?" I managed to squeak. I wasn't sure whether he was about to force himself on me, or turn me into a vampire. Or both.

"To be your first. You're old enough now. I know you've started to bleed."

"Please, don't," My lip quivered. "You said you would let me grow."

"You're grown enough," He said. "It's time to become a woman now."

He shoved my nightgown up to my hips. I yelped and pushed against him, but he caught my left hand and looked at me bewilderingly. My right hand slipped beneath my pillow without him noticing.

"Why are you acting like this? You've never been so defiant. Is it wearing off?"

"Let go of me!"

"You must need another dose." He fixed his gaze on me, turning on his Vampire's Seduction.

"Be a good girl. You want this, Tabby. Don't you?"

" _Go to hell_!" I screamed, and slashed him across the face with the dagger I kept under my pillow for precisely this reason.

Until that point, I had managed to conceal from him that his Seduction hadn't worked on me for over a year. Once I killed my first man at thirteen, I started to feel whispers pulling at me. They were not fully formed words yet, but through them I slowly became aware that I was meant for a different purpose than to be Luven's minion.

The whispers formed a sort of protective shield around me, and soon I realized that Luven's Seduction wasn't affecting me at all anymore. I also was smart enough to know the upper hand I could gain by not making him aware of this, so I continued to play the part of adoring lackey.

It became excruciatingly difficult to do this as time went on. Now that the spell had been broken, I was fully aware of Luven's abuse, and the love I had for him as a child had completely twisted into a burning hatred. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the feedings were all horrific. But I hated the way he touched me most of all.

I had been contemplating running away or killing him for months, but I knew as a mortal child both of those were likely a suicide mission. Now, I was determined to either escape or die trying. Either would be a better option than staying in the hell I was trapped in.

My cut was quick, but deep. Luven recoiled, screaming in pain - here was the best chance I would have. I sprinted madly for the water at the cave's edge, for the underwater entrance that Luven appeared not to know about. I heard him splash into the water just as I hauled the door shut behind me.

The days playing in the bay had made me a capable swimmer, and I managed to make it to shore just as his head surfaced above water. This was the head start of a lifetime. I knew Luven had Detect Life abilities in a certain radius, so hiding was out of the question. It was vital I used this chance to lose him.

The swamp was pitch black, and I was armed only with a rusty dagger against the sinister creatures that came out at night. Still, I sprinted as fast as I could in the the shin-deep grass, every possible survival instinct on overload.

I knew I was at a disadvantage, fleeing from a vampire in the nighttime, yet as I ran I felt faster and hardier than usual. Like an unseen spirit was lending me their help. After about twenty minutes of running I came across a small cave. There were no bones or other signs of a resident monster around the mouth, so I took my chances and sought refuge inside.

The cave was dark and freezing but completely empty, and the walls were likely to conceal me from Luven's Detect Life vision. If he didn't find me before the sun rose, he would be forced to return to Deepscorn Hollow and I would be safe.

I didn't sleep a minute that night; my heart was racing too fast and my whole body was shaking. Everything had happened in a blur, and I hadn't begun to process what I had just done. Not to mention I was terrified that Luven would stumble across my cave, a fate that was far worse than death.

It seemed an eternity before the first rays of light faintly illuminated the mouth of the cave. As soon as they did, I burst into tears. With those rays of light, I had been reborn. Nine years of trauma were finally at a close. Now I had to get myself far, far away from here, where Luven would never find me, and figure out how to begin my life anew.

It was a hike of a mere few hours to Leyawiin. I arrived covered in bog filth and with not a coin to my name, but alive. I made my way to the local Fighters' Guild, half expecting them to mistake me for a beggar girl and chase me away. Instead, they welcomed me inside, helped me clean up, and gave me enough money to take a carriage anywhere I wanted to go. Immediately, I chose Anvil - far from Chorrol, far from Deepscorn Hollow, and a place I had no prior connections. With any luck, Luven would never think to look for me there.

When I arrived in Anvil I was fourteen years old, still a child. But it felt like I had already been through a lifetime of suffering, certainly more than many adults had endured. Really, my childhood had ended at twelve, when any semblance of a normal life was yanked from under me.

I was completely alone and had nothing but a rusty dagger and the clothes on my back, but I was not frightened. I knew I could fend for myself. And I knew anything that happened to me in Anvil was a thousand times better than what I had just escaped.

On the surface, Anvil was a bright and cheery town. The marine breeze was divine, the sun gently warming on the face. The generally well-kept houses were intricately designed, and the residents subscribed to the laid-back lifestyle only found by the sea. Dig a bit deeper, however, and you could find all matters of ugly characters.

Almost all of them congregated on the docks. They were thieves, pirates, petty thugs. Since the only skill I had to my name was killing people, I figured the best way to make a living for myself was to throw my lot in with the other criminals. The madam of the sailor's bunkhouse and not-so-secret brothel, the Fo'c's'le, took pity on me and let me sleep on a bedroll in her cellar (she also offered me a job, which I refused - I wasn't quite that desperate.) During the day, I hit the docks to try and make a not so honest living.

I started out small - stealing in order to simply feed myself. Thievery was not my strong suit, and more times than I can count I was caught and had to spend the week in jail. At least when I was locked up, I knew I would be fed for the week.

When it was beginning to look like I would either have to turn to prostitution or starve, I finally caught my break. I happened to overhear a gang boss talking about some sap who owed him money and needed to be roughed up a bit. I marched up to him and puffed my chest out.

"I'll do it."

Perhaps rightfully so, the thug laughed in my face.

" _You_? You look in a mirror recently? I'm trying to scare this sewer rat shitless, not invite him over to play dolls."

"You don't know where I've come from," I said. "Give me a chance. If I fail I'll owe you the same amount he does."

"Aw hell, let the little whore try, Bilge," His lackey said. "It's her funeral if she fails."

The boss rolled his eyes. "Fine," He said. "You make this guy pay up, I'll give you one hundred Septims. If you make a fool of me, you owe me five times that."

"It's a deal. Show me where to find him."

The target was a very average looking warehouse worker. Trying to exude confidence, I marched up to him as he loaded boxes onto a ship, glare affixed to my face.

"Hey. You better pay Bilge what you owe him, or else."

The laborer scoffed. "Piss off, kid."

In one swift move I twisted his arm behind his back, grabbed a handful of hair, and dangled him over the dock.

"You want to take a dip with the slaughterfish, see if that changes your mind?"

"Mother Mara, you're strong. Get off me or you'll be in a world of hurt!"

"No one will miss a slimy dock worker like you," I cooed into his ear. "I could slit your throat right now and take the money off your corpse and not a single soul would care." I pulled my dagger from my waistband and grazed his arm with it. "Is that the way you want to do it?"

"Okay, okay! I'll give you the money. Just take it and get out of here!" He handed me a bag of coin and I let him up, giving him one last shove before I left.

The thug tried and largely failed to hide his surprise when I returned with the money. "It's all here. You must be one crazy little bitch if you were able to scare that bloke."

I held out my hand. "My cut?"

True to his word, he counted out one hundred coins. "No idea how you managed it, but you've done what two of my thugs couldn't."

I smirked. Or at least, I tried. "If you have any other dirty work that needs doing, I'll be around. Especially if you need to…permanently solve a problem."

From then on the various lowlifes on the docks granted me their grudging respect. They knew they could rely on me to get a job done, whether it was shaking someone down for money or disposing of someone who had become inconvenient.

Soon everyone knew me. People got out of my way when I walked down the boardwalk, and they certainly knew better than to try and rob me. I got arrested frequently, but I had grown smart. The guards could never prove it was me who murdered that sailor, so the most they could ever do was hold me in jail for a few weeks. Eventually, even they left me alone. Men tried to bed me, but they knew better than to force me. I turned them all down. I didn't want a man to touch me for a long time. Maybe never.

Was I happy? That was a resounding no. I was doing what I needed to survive, using the only skills I had. I didn't enjoy working as a common criminal, but I did enjoy the respect I got from men decades older than me. By all measures I should have wound up as a prostitute, so I was pleased that I had, in my mind, done better for myself than that.

More importantly, it appeared that I had broken free from Luven for good. A life of street crime was certainly better than a life as his prisoner. At least now, I was my own master. I was able to afford not only food, but a better dagger, and a bow and arrow, and even a set of cheap leather armor. For a common criminal, I was doing just fine.

Still, it was a long year and a half that I spent in Anvil. It wasn't an easy life - I was constantly getting banged up, threatened, and propositioned. Then, finally, my hard-won infamy ended up being my undoing.

I had just barely turned sixteen. I looked much different than the last time I saw Luven - I finally looked more like the adult I considered myself to be. I had lost both the baby fat and any remnants of an innocent look to my face. I was taller, more filled out. Most of all,

I was hardened. By life on the docks, by all the childhood memories I forced myself to push to the back of my mind.

When I felt someone behind me grab my arm as I made my way back to my bed for the evening, I expected it to be some wastrel who was angry at me for shaking him down.

"You have two seconds to get your grubby hands off me before I gut you," I said calmly, not even bothering to turn around.

The hands roughly spun me, and my stomach dropped when I found myself looking into a pair of ruby red eyes.

"I knew it was you," He hissed smugly. "The teenage girl terrorizing the Anvil docks. How could it be anyone but my little Tabby cat?"

For the first time in a year and half, I was afraid. Not of death, but of what Luven would do to me now. I tried to wrest myself free, but of course his vampire's grip was like iron.

"You've grown up so fast, I almost didn't recognize you," He continued. "I've been looking for you this whole time, you know."

"That's absolutely insane," I gasped. "I'm not worth it. Just get another apprentice. No one would miss a street kid around here."

Luven shook his head. "I've already poured years of hard work into training you. I can't lose that investment now. And I can't let that level of ungratefulness go unchecked. You've been very bad, running away from me. I think we'll start your punishment right now." He smirked. "Don't worry, I'll make sure not to wreck your pretty face."

He punched me in the stomach, hard enough to knock me flat on my back. Then he descended upon me, punching and kicking me to a bloody pulp. Of course, no one on the docks intervened - fights were just a fact of life there.

I could feel my soul slowly detaching from my body, and I prayed to whoever was listening that I would just die right there. But someone - be it divine, Daedra, or something else entirely - clearly had other plans for me, because at that precise moment Bilge and two of his cronies came lumbering around the corner.

To be clear, Bilge was not my friend. No one was. But Bilge made frequent use of my services, and felt that no one else did quite the job I did. Sensing the threat of losing his best enforcer, he charged at Luven and successfully managed to tackle him off me. Then he set his two minions to the task of wrestling with the Imperial while he attempted to help me.

"Come on, you crazy little bitch, you're not dying today," He said as he hoisted me onto his shoulder.

"You don't…understand…" I croaked. "Have to get out of town…"

Bilge looked to Luven, who was quickly gaining the upper hand. Then he broke into a run, causing me wince every time I bounced against him.

"You've been hiding from that scum this whole time, is that it?"

I groaned in affirmation.

"Looks like it's time for you to move on, then." He carried me out the city gate and looked around, spying an unsupervised wagon of hay.

"Climb in. The hay will soak up the blood."

I obeyed, and Bilge did his best to conceal me with the straw. Then he pressed a bag of coin into my hand.

"Here. Take it. Go raise hell in some other town."

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered.

"I've got a feeling about you, kid. You're not meant to die as an underaged thug for hire. You'll be causing chaos on a much wider scale soon." His head jerked in the other direction. "The farmer's on his way back now. Get those injuries looked at wherever you end up. And fuck that piece of scum." He used the rest of the hay to obscure my face, and that was the last I saw of him.

I had no idea where I was going. I drifted in and out of consciousness as the wagon bumped along the road, occasionally wondering if I would eventually succumb to my injuries. I had sustained several hits to the head, but most of Luven's hits were concentrated on my torso. I suspected a rib was broken, and prayed there was no internal bleeding.

I knew we had reached out final destination when I narrowly missed impalement by a pitchfork. Peering out into the open, I waited until the farmer's back was turned before slithering out of the wagon, crawling underneath to the other side. I looked around me, at my all too familiar surroundings, and suppressed a groan.

 _Of course_ the wagon had taken me back to Chorrol.

I was forced to take two nerve-wracking days to rest and restock my supplies - it pained me to stay still for that long, knowing that Luven would almost certainly be looking for me - but at the end of the two days I was ready to leave Chorrol behind forever. Without looking back, I walked through the city gates, off the road and straight into the Great Forest.

I didn't really have a plan. I knew my way around the Forest reasonably well from my childhood hunting days, and I was confident that I could feed myself with my bow. There were small settlements deep in the woods that I could trade with, and I knew how to recognize clean water and a few basic edible plants. Since staying in a city on the other end of the province couldn't keep me safe, I figured the only thing I could do was retreat deep into the wilderness for a few more years until Luven gave me up for dead. Hell, maybe I would stay there forever.

It was much different life than Anvil, that was for sure. I spent the vast majority of my time alone, tracking deer or gathering mushrooms. At night I slept in hollow logs or in the branches of trees. Occasionally I would pay a visit to Gottlesfont Priory, an isolated community of nuns, to trade or to take shelter in bad weather. They were probably the first people in my life to show me true kindness, though they knew better to ask why a young girl was living in the wilds alone.

The months rolled by as I roamed the forests. I had a lot of time to reflect on my life to that point, to process everything that I had locked away during my time in Anvil. I was angry with Luven, and with my father. They had robbed me of a normal life, twisted me into something else entirely, and then exiled me to a life of solitude.

But somehow living largely alone, in commune only with the nature around me, was strangely healing. I felt rejuvenated by the beauty surrounding me every day, and I never had to appear tough or try to manipulate anyone before they manipulated me. As the seasons began to turn, my time in Deepscorn Hollow slowly, slowly began to seem like a memory rather than something constantly invading my thoughts.

Then one day I returned to Gottlesfont Priory, hoping to trade rabbit hides for bread and ask the date from the sisters. I knew it was getting to be end of summer, which meant I would have spent about eight months in the forest, but the only way I could be certain of the day and month was to ask those who had access to clocks.

But when Sister Adelia answered the door, the look on her face was instantly a cause for alarm.

"It's the First of Last Seed, child, and that's not all," She said in her frail voice. "A cloaked man…if that's what he truly is…came to our door about a week ago, asking about a black-haired teenage girl. He had a dark, dark aura around him, dear. I fear he wishes you harm."

My stomach instantly clenched up. "Where did he go?"

"West, deeper into the woods. Where you just came from, I presume."

She presumed correctly. It was pure luck that I hadn't run into him on my way to the priory.

"I know that man," I explained. "I've been running from him for over two years."

Sister Adelia shook her head. "If he can find you here, he can find you anywhere in Cyrodiil. The time has come to flee the province entirely."

I knew she was right, but fleeing would take an incredible amount of energy and resources. I still had some money left over from Bilge - money wasn't of much use deep in the wilderness. I could only hope it was enough to get me across a border.

"Best to make for Hammerfell. It is the closest province to us here," The sister continued. "The nation is still in ruins thanks to the War, but that may work to your advantage. It will be harder to locate you amongst the chaos. Now, you take these," Sister Adelia bustled about, preparing me a satchel of food and water. "It's not much, but it'll help you survive until you make it across the border."

Hammerfell did make the most logical choice of destination. But I felt a strong force pulling me elsewhere. Whether it was the ancestral pride that lay dormant in me, driving me to return to my homeland, or the dark whispers that urged me to seek the destiny that awaited me there, I still cannot be sure. Whatever the cause, the urge to make this journey was the most sure I had ever felt about anything. I may have been pushed out of Cyrodiil by fear and desperation, but fate called me unmistakably to this strange and wondrous land in particular.

And so I set forth on the northern road to Skyrim.


	25. Chapter 25: The Vampire

Tabby felt moisture on face, and realized her eyes had started to leak tears.

An uneasy silence fell between the three as Tabby finished speaking. At last Nazir cleared his throat. "Why hasn't he come for you, if he's here in Skyrim?

"I don't know. It could just be a coincidence that's he relocated, but I really doubt it. More likely he's biding his time. For what, I'm not sure."

"Well, at any rate it's clear that running from him isn't working. Seems like he can find you wherever you go."

"I'm aware of that."

"So let's go get that bastard."

"You don't understand. Luven is incredibly powerful. He's over 500 years old. And has no sense of humanity or compassion whatsoever. Humans are little better than insects to him."

"But we're no normal humans, are we?" Marius said with a faint smile. "Besides, this is the only way we can stop him. From hurting you, or anyone else."

Tabby paused to consider this. Running from him would only allow him to keep victimizing other girls. And there was no guarantee it would even work.

"He might be an exceptionally strong vampire," Nazir continued. "But he's still just a vampire. All vampires can be killed."

"What's this about my kin?" Babette ambled into the room.

Nazir took a deep breath. "The head of this trafficking ring is someone from Tabby's past. Who just happens to be an especially sadistic 500 year old vampire."

A dark cloud passed over Babette's face. "And what is this vampire's name?"

"Luven."

Babette snarled, baring her tiny fangs. "Son of a bitch."

Tabby blinked in surprise. "You know him?"

"Do I. He's the one who turned me."

Tabby was floored. What were the odds?

Sensing her shock, Babette explained. "When I was human, I lived on the outskirts of Skingrad. One day I was out playing with friends after sunset. Back then it was a safe and prosperous place, and I had never had any reason to fear. I took a shortcut through an empty field on my way home, and realized too late that a man was following me."

"But why would he turn a little girl?" Nazir asked.

"He wanted a…companion. But there's a problem with children. They make extremely volatile vampires for the first ten years or so. He couldn't control me the way he wanted to, so he attacked me and left me for dead. Clearly, that didn't pan out the way he intended. What did he do to you, Listener?"

"Bought me from my father for 1500 Septims and held me captive for nine years. He was going to turn me too, once I was full grown."

"Ah, so he learned his lesson after all. Sorry, it's not funny. He's a monster, and he needs to be put down."

"And exactly how do we do that?" Marius asked.

"We'll have to lure him out of his fortress somehow," Nazir replied. "Attempting to take him on his own turf seems unwise."

"I'll have to be the lure," Tabby said. "I'm his biggest weakness. If he gets word of my location, he'll drop everything to find me. And that will leave him vulnerable."

"You can't put yourself at risk like that…" Nazir began to protest.

"It's the only way. If he's holed up in some abandoned fort, it likely means he won't come out unless he has a damn good reason."

Uneasily, Marius acquiesced. "We'll go to Solitude then. I assume you got the den leader thrown in jail?"

Tabby hesitated. "Well…not exactly."

"You killed him?" Marius shook his head in disapproval.

Tabby shrugged. "I'm an assassin, not a thief. We're not as squeamish about killing people who get in our way. It's a difference we'll have to put aside if we're going to work together."

Marius sighed. "That can be discussed later. For now, we'll see if a new den leader has popped up to replace the old one. With any luck, they'll report to Luven that Tabby is in the city, and that will lure him out."

It wasn't a perfect plan. But it was all they had. Leaving Brynjolf in charge of the Guild and Babette in charge of the Brotherhood, Tabby and her two male companions set course for the long journey to Solitude.

* * *

Two nights into their trip, they stopped to camp just off the road. Nazir was already sound asleep in his bedroll. Marius and Tabby sat across the fire from each other, staring into the flames.

"So what's your story?" Tabby asked.

"My story?"

"You know far too much about me now. I think it's only fair that you return the favor."

Marius grinned, his slightly too sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the fire. "Where do I start?"

Tabby shrugged. "At the beginning."

"Very well." Marius drew a deep breath. "As you already know, my father was a Bosmer. He was a thief."

"Like you."

"Like me, except that he was a freelancer. Not affiliated with the Guild. Anyway, twenty-two years ago he found himself in Morthal for a night, where he seduced a young Imperial woman - the maid at the local tavern. The next morning he was gone, and the barmaid was with child."

"So you never knew him?"

"No. I don't even know if he's still alive. All I have of him are the precious few stories my mother told me. And his ears."

"And teeth," Tabby teased.

Marius threw her a toothy grin in return, the points gleaming softly in the firelight. "Fair enough."

"Imagine that, us being able to bond over both being abandoned by our fathers."

"I don't blame my father, to be honest with you. How was he to know my mother was pregnant? But I do give her a world of credit. She was young, and we were desperately poor. It's not as if Morthal's inn gets a wealth of visitors. But she did her very best. She often went hungry so that I could eat."

"So you came from nothing. Just like me."

"And like you, I was on my own from a fairly young age."

"What happened to your mother?"

"She was always in poor health. Worked too hard, ate and slept too winter I was fifteen, she fell ill and never got better."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I do miss her."

"What happened to you then?"

"After she died the jarl wanted to send me to Honorhall for a year, as is the law. I had other ideas. So in the middle of the night, I slipped out of town and went to Solitude to seek my fortune."

"Did you find it?"

"At first, no. I was stealing bread so I wouldn't starve. I had more of a natural gift for it than you, though. I got better and better, and soon I moved on to bigger jobs. Breaking into houses to relieve people of their valuables, lightening people's pockets, that sort of business. I was living quite well then. Well, my side gig didn't hurt either."

"What side gig was that?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Being the lover of a Thane's lonely wife. She was much older than me, but she was kind. She taught me how to read. And how 'polite society' speaks and acts. That proved to be even more useful than the reading."

"How so?"

"It opened up countless doors for me. Thieving doors, that is. With my newfound charm, I could get the rich society women to fall for me. Invite me to stay the night. And then rob them as they slept."

"And they never reported you to the guards?"

"Not once. They always blamed the maid. I did feel a little guilty, letting an innocent take the fall, but it worked out perfectly for me. No one wants to believe that their lover would do such a terrible thing."

Tabby rolled her eyes. "I think people are even shallower than that. No one wants to believe that someone beautiful could do terrible things."

"Why, Listener, are you calling me beautiful?"

Tabby's cheeks burned. "I'm just saying. People see what they want to see. When you first look at me, would you think that I've killed over forty people?"

Marius raised his eyebrows. "Definitely not. Forty? Really?"

"Yes. But we're talking about me again. This is supposed to be about you."

"As you command, Listener," Marius teased. Then he looked down into his lap. "My new con job got me into places I never would have dreamed. The Blue Palace. Vlindrel Hall in Markarth. The finest houses in Windhelm. I moved from city to city, clearing out their valuables. Eventually, I attracted the attention of the Thieves Guild."

"And that's when you joined?"

"More or less. They were angry that I was stealing their business, but given their current state of affairs, they were eager to recruit a skilled thief. They invited me to Riften. At first, I wasn't going to join. They were little more than a pack of thugs. They would steal a blind beggar's last Septim."

"What changed your mind?"

"Brynjolf. He was different from the rest. Sure, he was a scoundrel, but I sensed that deep down there was goodness in him. He was also the most competent of the lot. I wanted to be like him. So I joined. And he took me under his wing. And when everything with Mercer blew up, he was the first to suggest I take the reins."

"Why you? Why not Brynjolf? Or Delvin, or Vex?"

"Delvin is old, Vex is…well, Vex. And that kind of power did not interest Brynjolf. He thought the Guild needed a fresh perspective, and he was more interested in helping me implement my new vision. Where the others mocked my idealism, he used his clout with the Guild to back me up."

"And have you succeeded?"

"I'd say so. We're doing better now than we ever were under Mercer. Some people grumbled or even quit the Guild when I banned certain practices, but in the end it made us more successful."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why this sense of honor? Isn't it easier to snatch the low-hanging fruit?"

"It's simple, really. My mother raised me to be kind. And honest. And to help those who had less than we did, even though we had almost nothing ourselves. She told me that being poor in pocket meant nothing if I was rich in character. And even though I wound up in a less than honest profession, I have always tried to conduct my business in the most honorable way I can. To respect my mother. To remember her."

"That's…very admirable."

Marius shrugged. And then he scooted a bit closer to Tabby.

"So I've told you my story. You were very brave to tell yours today."

"Stop. I don't want your pity."

"I don't pity you. On the contrary. I'm even more in awe of you than I was before."

Tabby snorted. "In awe of me? Please."

"It's true. How much you've survived. How far you've risen above it. I don't have half the strength that you do."

Thankfully it was dark, so he couldn't see her blush. He moved a bit closer to her yet.

"You and Nazir seem quite close." He said, trying to sound casual.

"We are. He's been an enormous help to me since I took over the Brotherhood. Giving me advice, keeping the recruits in line. And he looks out for me. He's sort of the father I never had. I don't know what I'd do without him."

Marius gave a small smile. "So there's nothing…"

"Romantic?" Tabby wrinkled her nose. "Gods, no. Never. He's old enough to be my actual father." She paused, noticing that Marius was now so close their knees were almost touching. "Why do you ask?"

Marius gently placed his hand over hers. "When you first removed that cowl, I couldn't help but notice your beauty. But then I came to discover so much more about you. Your cleverness, your bravery, your compassion." He paused for an excruciating second, his fingers interlocking with hers. "The truth is, Tabby, I'm quite taken by you."

Tabby looked down at their hands, then back at him. "This isn't one of your scams, is it? You're not trying to seduce me for your own gain?"

Marius smiled sheepishly. "I know I've been a bit of a scoundrel in the past. But what would I have to gain from conning you?"

"I don't know…" Tabby admitted softly. He was staring at her now the same way he had in the Cistern, and it was turning her mind into mush.

Marius's other hand moved to her face, gently caressing her cheek. Their faces were mere inches apart.

"And what would I have to gain from confessing my true feelings?" He whispered.

They looked into each other's eyes for another long moment. Then he kissed her.

Astrid had been a great kisser. But when Marius's lips met hers, it was as if she was melting. Time seemed to slow down as he ran his hand through her hair and gently brought his tongue to touch hers. Yet when he pulled away, it seemed entirely too short.

Marius, grinning from ear to ear, glanced over to where Nazir slept just a few yards away. "Can't get too carried away," He whispered in her ear, sending chills down her spine. Then he stood abruptly. "It's late, my dear. And we have a long day of travel ahead. Shall we continue our …conversation another evening?"

Tabby knew she should be cautious. Never trust a thief. But as she climbed into her own bedroll, she couldn't fight the stupid smile on her face.

* * *

At noon the next day they finally reached the gates of Solitude. Tabby worried that finding the new den leader - if there even was one - would be difficult. It was not. All it took was for Nazir to approach the first shady looking character they saw and ask if he knew of any whores 'a bit younger' than those in the Winking Skeever. Then, all Tabby had to do was walk by the alley where the two were negotiating.

"Is that…" The den leader left Nazir in the alleyway without another word and approached Tabby immediately.

"Excuse me, miss? You look a lot like my long-lost cousin. What is your name?"

She smiled innocently at him. "I'm Tabby."

"Then you're not my cousin, but all the same it's nice to meet you, Tabby. You look to be about my sister's age. She just turned seventeen."

Tabby beamed, continuing to play along. "So did I!"

"Well, that's just lovely. She's back home in Cyrodiil. Have you ever been?"

"Oh, yes. Mostly Chorrol, but also Leyawiin and Anvil."

"All beautiful towns. How does Solitude compare?"

"Solitude is lovely. I'm staying at the Winking Skeever. So many friendly people there."

"Indeed there are. You have a nice day, Miss Tabby." And then the den leader turned and walked in the direction of the city gates, seeming to forget all about Nazir.

The Redguard emerged from the alley. "He's going to tell Luven that you're here."

Tabby took a deep breath. "Undoubtedly. And then the fun begins."

"Are you alright?"

"No. But it's far too late to back out now."

"So what happens next?"

"Once Luven gets word that I'm in Solitude, he should emerge from his fortress. He'll likely stalk me around the city for awhile until he finds a suitable place to make his move."

"And then?"

"Truth be told, I'm not really sure. The last time he found me, he almost beat me to death. I'm pretty sure that was an accident, though. He wants me alive. So he can turn me into the undead, of course."

"Then we need to find that suitable battle ground, don't we?"

So late that evening Tabby donned her armor - but not the cowl - and wandered the streets of Solitude, Nazir and Marius trailing in the shadows behind her. She was well aware that in all likelihood, Luven also lurked somewhere in the darkness. That scared her a great deal. But she wasn't going to let herself succumb to the fear. Tonight was the night she was going to end things.

She reached the quiet lane where Solitude's wealthy took up residence. One stately house in particular stood dark and empty, in contrast to the others with candles on their sills and laundry strung from their windows. If she could get inside, she could steer Luven away from any innocent stragglers that could wander by.

But beyond the practicalities, something was drawing her to this house. This was where it was supposed to happen.

For such a grand house, it had weak security. Even Tabby, not known for her picking skills, could jimmy the lock with relative ease. She left the front door cracked and opened a side window so that Nazir and Marius could discreetly shimmy inside. Then she took a look at her surroundings.

Whoever moved out had done so in a hurry. The usual trinkets one would find in a house were gone, but the large, well-crafted furniture remained. The larder was empty, but a single bottle of wine sat atop the dining room table. Odd.

Then she noticed the label, clearly specially made: _Vittoria Vici and Asgeir Snow-Shod. 21st of Morning Star, 4E202_.

It couldn't be a coincidence that she had been drawn to this house in particular - the Night Mother loved when the past reverberated into the present. So Tabby found herself in the now-empty house of a woman she had killed - was it really just six months ago? It felt like decades had passed since that time in her life.

This time a year ago, she was still roaming the Great Forest. Now _that_ really felt like an era ago. She was a completely different person then. If you had told her then that in just a short seven months she would be the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, she would have laughed in your face.

Something was telling her that destiny awaited her upstairs. Tabby mounted the oak staircase, gazing up into the blackness. Was this anything like staring into the Void?

"Tabby?" A barely audible whisper came from behind her. Crouched by the window were two shadowy figures.

"We're right behind you," Marius promised.

She entered the largest bedroom on the second floor, the one that must have belonged to Vittoria. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was completely empty save for a tattered curtain fluttering in the breeze of an open window. The moonlight was a surprisingly effective light source; Tabby could even make out the patch on the floor where the bed had been.

A feeling hit her. She was being watched. And not just by Nazir and Marius.

"I know you're here," She said perfectly calmly, despite the sickening feeling in her stomach.

In southeast corner the air started to waver, until a man's image slowly faded into appearance.

Luven was an attractive man when Tabby first met him - when he was still feeding. Now, his face was marred by the tell-tale signs of a late-stage vampire: gaunt, pale, and wrinkled, with bright red eyes that regarded all humans, but especially Tabby, as no more than prey. His mouth parted into a terrible grin, showing off the protruding fangs that had pierced her neck far too many times. He was sure that he had her in his grasp.

"There's something different about you, Kitten."

"Do not call me that."

Luven laughed cruelly, as Tabby had done so many times to her own prey. It did not feel good to be on the receiving end of it. "Still got that fight in you, I see. We'll fix that right up, won't we?"

Tabby clenched her fists, tried to think of one of her clever assassin comebacks. Nothing came.

Luven didn't seem to notice she was tongue-tied. Instead, he prattled on. "I really never took you for such a fool, Tabby. You led me right to you. Almost as if you wanted to be caught. Is that it? Maybe you had your taste of the outside world, and realized that I can give you so much more than you could ever find out there."

Tabby scoffed. "And what are you offering? Forcing your plague onto me? Subjecting me to another eternity of abuse?"

"Abuse?" He sneered. I taught you everything you know. I made you into who you are today. You owe _everything_ to me."

Tabby's ego swelled. Her posture straightened, and she looked Luven straight in the horrid eyes. "You may have taught me how to shoot a bow, and slit a throat. But I made myself into who stands before you now. I was destined for greatness. And I found it - found myself - once I got away from you."

"I noticed your Shrouded Armor," He said. "If tagging along with a dysfunctional band of fools is your idea of greatness…"

She lifted her chin. "My idea of greatness is that I personally stabbed the Emperor in the heart. I brought the Dark Brotherhood back from the brink of destruction. I was chosen by the Night Mother herself to hear her unholy words."

Luven narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

" _Darkness rises when silence dies_." She hissed.

The vampire snarled. "You? I've heard about this infamous new Listener. And the whole time it was you?"

"You always thought you were Sithis's most favored servant, didn't you? Well, you were wrong. It was me. The whole time." She took a step toward him. "It's time to face the facts, Luven. I'm not a little girl anymore. And you coming here, to my homeland, was a big mistake."

He scoffed. "So you've not only waltzed your way into the Night Mother's favor, _somehow_ ushered in a new golden age for the Brotherhood, but you've discovered your true heritage."

"I've discovered more than you ever knew."

"Oh, I'm sure," He said condescendingly. "Well, _Kitten_ , perhaps I've ever so slightly underestimated you. But you're still mortal. And you're still facing down a nearly 600 year old vampire. And in the end, I will still get what I want."

"Which is?"

"You. You stupid, defiant little bitch. I knew I had to have you from the moment I saw you in that tavern. It was clear, even as a child, that you were made for the darkness. Not to mention, I knew that such a pretty child would become an even more beautiful woman. And I was right." He very pointedly scanned her body. "You're a sight in that armor. Every tantalizing curve…"

"You're sick," Tabby spat. "You prey on children. Not just me, but all those other girls you've trafficked."

Luven laughed. "Silly girl, I couldn't give less of a damn about those other whores. It was all a grand operation to get to you. And in the end, it didn't even matter. You came right to me anyway."

" _What_?"

"I knew you were in Skyrim. I just didn't know where. For months, I could not for the life of me find you. Now I know it's because you had disappeared underground with those Dark Brotherhood rats. It was laughably easy to set up a trafficking ring. The corrupted officials were there at every level. I figured that if the trade got big enough, eventually one of the teenage girls who passed through would be you."

"All those lives ruined…"

"Oh, shut it, Tabby. You know full well that I don't care. I suppose now comes the part where you become indignant and refuse to give yourself over to me. But I want you to know the consequences of that decision before you make it."

Tabby said nothing, eyeing him suspiciously. He slowly began to circle her as he continued.

"I've been operating this ring out of a fortress outside of Solitude. But that's not all I've been doing there. I've been amassing my army."

"What army?" She asked, making sure to turn with him. Never leaving her back exposed to the monster.

"After hundreds of years of living in the shadows, of struggling to keep the Crimson Scars alive, I realized that I deserved far better. Why should these pitiful humans sit upon their thrones of gold, while I hunker in a cave?" He shook his head. "Unacceptable. So, I've begun assembling a force of vampires. You really led me to the perfect target. Skyrim may be a frozen, uncivilized shit pile, but its political chaos makes it ripe for a takeover. Soon my immortal army will strike, and Tamriel's first true vampire kingdom will arise. And that's where your choice comes in. Will you sit beside me as my queen, or will you join the throngs of mortals in slavery to their betters?"

For a moment, Tabby was truly dumbfounded. "You're delusional," She rasped. "Utterly insane."

"Now, Kitten. Have some reason. You join me, you accept my gift, and you will be powerful beyond your wildest dreams. You will be young and beautiful forever. You will have anything your heart wishes. I ask for such a small thing in return."

"I will never love you. No matter how desperate you are."

Luven merely shrugged. "I'm going to turn you either way. You can spend an eternity doted on by your husband, or chained to your master's bed. The choice is entirely yours."

Her hands were shaking. But she still managed to draw the Blade of Woe. "You were right, Luven. I did come here on purpose. But it wasn't to beg for your forgiveness. It was to put an end to your madness."

"Right. You and your two lackeys lurking in the hallway." Sensing her shock, the vampire laughed. "You forgot about my Hunter's Sight, love. I could see them with you the entire time." He smiled evilly. "You know, I'm feeling merciful. I'll make you an offer: If you make the right choice, I'll give them a quick death. Make the wrong one, and I'll make you watch as I slowly peel every inch of skin from their bodies." He chuckled. "That is, after I make _them_ watch as I finally deflower that tight, young cunt of yours."

A rage-filled roar erupted from the hallway. Nazir charged at Luven, swinging his scimitar above his head.

But Luven was ready. The vampire fired off a powerful frost spell, hitting Nazir straight in the chest. He flew across the room and crumpled on the floor.

He did not move.

" _YOU KILLED HIM_!" Tabby shrieked. Blinded by rage, she certainly did not care that she held only a dagger against Luven. Inches away from him, she was stopped cold in her tracks. The bastard was using telekinesis on her. She felt herself slowly lifted into the air, then flung towards the opposite wall. Blinding pain seared across her head, and she hit the ground a few feet from Nazir.

Barely conscious and vision blurred, she watched Luven take a few steps towards her. "I can do this all day, Tabby. Or have you had enough already? I thought you were 'putting an end to my madness'!"

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her knees. She struggled to keep her eyes open as he pulled her head back to expose her neck.

"It's been too long since I've tasted your blood," He said. "I haven't fed in months, you know. I might get a little carried away. No matter. I'm sure we can sew you back together." He opened his mouth wide. Fangs bared and red eyes gleaming, he looked like a viper about to strike.

And strike he would have, if at that instant Marius hadn't materialized out of thin air behind him.

He tried to slit Luven's throat, but didn't cut deep enough to kill. He wasn't an assassin, after all. Still, Luven toppled forward, gurgling as he clutched his hands to his throat. With no time to lose, Marius heaved Nazir over his shoulder with a pained grunt.

"Darling, I need you to try and stand. I can't carry you both."

"Nazir…"

"He's breathing, Tabby. But we have to get out of here right now if we're going to save him. Or ourselves."

With a huge amount of effort, Tabby staggered to her feet. Just as she had righted herself, she felt a pair of impossibly strong arms grab her from behind. One of Luven's arms wrapped around her throat, and she sputtered and choked for breath.

"Go, Marius," She croaked with great effort. "Go. Save Nazir."

As Marius hesitated, unwilling to abandon her yet, Luven touched his lips to her ears. Tabby tried to recoil in horror, but he held her too tightly.

" _Go and watch your lackey die_ ," He whispered in a seductive tone that sent her skin crawling. " _I'll find you again. I always have, and I always will_." He planted a bruising kiss on her neck, and then shoved her into Marius.

Grimacing as his neck continued to ooze blood, Luven slowly began to fade from sight. Soon he was entirely invisible.

"Grab onto me," Marius ordered. She looped her hand through his arm, and Marius squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Nocturnal, hear my plea," He muttered. A warped sound buzzed from the atmosphere, and suddenly it felt like she had been wrapped in an ice-cold blanket. Had she hit her head much harder than she thought?

Marius shook his head, a signal to be quiet, and dropped into the best crouch he could with a full grown man on his back. As silently as possible given the injuries in their party, they crept out of the house and into the Solitude night. When they rounded the corner and into an alleyway hidden from view, Marius murmured, "Thank you, my lady," and Tabby felt the blanket lift.

"You…do magic?"

"No. I'm a Nightingale of Nocturnal. The title comes with several perks, one of which is brief periods of invisibility when the need arises."

A carriage stood unguarded by the stable. Gently Marius laid Nazir across the floor, covering him with a burlap sack. He did not stir.

Tabby moved to lie down on the bench, but Marius stopped her.

"Your behavior concerns me. Have you been hit in the head like this before?"

Had she? Tabby tried to think back to another time when her head hurt this badly. The pain seemed familiar..

"Oh, in the Sanctuary…hit my head on the coffin."

"A coffin?" Marius asked incredulously. "Never mind, it doesn't matter how it happened. How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy…and there's two of you."

Marius frowned. "I need you to sit up front with me."

"Why?"

"So I can make sure you stay awake. You shouldn't sleep until you've gotten treatment for your head."

"But I'm so tired…"

"Try your best. Talk to me. About anything. Tell me about one of your contracts."

And so she did. Marius made her tell one barely coherent, wandering recap after another. Ever the good sport, he nodded in all the right places and asked her follow-up questions, as if she were telling the greatest battle yarn ever spun.

"Fascinating. So what happened once you made it on board the ship?"

"Saadia…Safia? Waits for me below deck. There was no sneaking up on her. I play the classic stoic assassin trick. But she's smart, that one. She says, '"Ah, I see. The old Dark Brotherhood "silent intimidation" treatment."

Marius smiled. "And you said earlier you're not good at open combat."

"I'm not."

"But you went toe to toe with a pirate and won?"

"Apparently."

"So you can't be all bad."

"Nazir can't die, Marius."

"He's not going to."

"But what if he can't make it all the way back to Riften?"

"That's why we're not going to Riften. We're going to Dawnstar."

"Dawnstar?"

"To your Sanctuary. Babette went back there to oversee the Brotherhood while you two were gone. Remember?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course."

When they finally reached the Black Door on Dawnstar's shores, Tabby stumbled out of the wagon as Marius unloaded Nazir.

 _What is life's greatest illusion?_

"Silence, my brother," Tabby muttered without thinking.

 _You are not worthy._

"Not worthy? I am the Listener!"

"Having trouble opening your own front door?" Marius teased. Tabby scowled.

 _What is life's greatest illusion?_

"Silence, my brother!"

 _You are not worthy._

Marius's grin turned to one of concern. "You really don't know the password? You must have hit your head even harder than I thought."

"Shut up," Tabby snarled. Why was that the only phrase that came to mind? She had heard it somewhere before…

Ah.

"Stupid." She muttered to herself. "That's the Falkreath code," A pang of sadness hit her, but now was not the time to indulge it.

 _What is life's greatest illusion?_

"Innocence, my brother."

 _Welcome home._


	26. Chapter 26: The Reunion

They arrived just in time for dinner. Marius emerged with Tabby and Nazir into a large chamber, where Babette sat at a long table with four other assassins. She noticed the ragtag group immediately, and jumped up to help.

"Nazir! What's happened to him?"

"He was hit with a powerful Frost spell. He's alive, but he hasn't woken up since. Tabby's got a bad concussion, from the looks of it."

"Quickly," Babette said, and rushed deeper into the cave. Marius followed, leading Tabby by the hand behind him.

They reached a hallway with three adjacent bedrooms. Babette entered the middle one momentarily, surfacing with an armful of potions and alchemy ingredients.

"Nazir's chamber is this one. Lay him out on the bed," She called over her shoulder as she led them into the smallest room.

"Sit down, Tabby." The little vampire ordered, gesturing at the only chair. Marius expected the Listener to take offense at Babette's tone, but she meekly complied.

"Marius, have her drink this, and we'll see how much it helps." She handed him a healing potion. "You didn't let her sleep on the way back, did you?"

"No. She's been awake for over forty-eight hours."

"Good. "

He uncorked the potion and handed it to Tabby. She drank the whole thing without complaint.

"I've received word from the Guild, you know," Babette said offhandedly as she set to work on Nazir.

"What sort of word?"

"That the Bunkhouse has been taken over by Svana, to be returned to its more legitimate roots. Haelga and Jenssen are in jail. The Vigilants are disgraced. The Thalmor has lost a bit of their legitimacy for their patronage of the ring."

Marius nodded. "So justice has, on some level, been served.

"As much as it can be. Many of the clients will probably get away. I offered to send a pair of assassins to dispatch any remaining den leaders, but Brynjolf said your lot would handle it. But that's not what impressed me most." She turned to look at Marius and offered him a small smile.

"Constance Michel has agreed to work with the Guild to convert Mercer Frey's old house into a refuge for trafficking victims. Brynjolf said that was your idea."

Marius looked down. "Perhaps it was."

"You might be a dirty thief, but you're a good man, Marius Celata." Then she turned her attention to Tabby. "How are you feeling, Listener?"

"Better. My head still hurts. And I'm exhausted."

"Do you still feel dizzy?" Marius asked.

"No."

"Still seeing double?"

"No."

"Then you're going to be just fine," Babette assured her.

"He let me go."

"Who? Luven?"

"Yes. He had me, and he let me go. What is he planning?"

"Worry about that tomorrow, Listener. Rest now. You desperately need it."

The Listener did not argue. Sliding off the chair, she shuffled out the room without another word.

"How is Nazir looking?"

Babette exhaled deeply. "He's going to live. It's a good thing you made such excellent time getting here, though. I'm not sure how much longer he would have lasted without treatment. Whether he'll ever be able to take another contract, unfortunately, is a bit of a different story."

"It's that bad?"

"The spell hit him directly in the heart. He's lucky he wasn't killed instantly. It'll take awhile to completely defrost, but he should wake up once it does." Babette looked at him, startled, as if seeing him for the first time. "You look a fright, Marius. I imagine you didn't get much rest along the way either."

"None. We practically never stopped along the way."

"I've got things under control here. You get some sleep. Sithis knows you've earned it. There should be a spare bed in the dormitory."

So Marius left Babette and Nazir, but found himself turned around in the hallway. He turned left, and came to the largest bedroom of the three instead of the passage leading to the dormitory.

"Marius?" A voice called softly.

He stepped into the room to see Tabby sitting up in bed under several furs. She looked tiny in her huge bed, among the heavy blankets.

"This is quite the room you have."

"It's nice to be in my own bed again. But where are you sleeping tonight?"

"Babette said there was a spare bed in the dormitory."

Tabby smiled shyly. He had never seen her look shy before. Her eyes, which Marius always found to be cold and fierce, now reminded him more of the Riften sky on a cloudless summer day.

"Those beds are horribly uncomfortable. Surely the Guildmaster deserves better."

Marius felt his heart quicken ever so slightly. He bit his lip - the girls always loved that. "And where would you have me sleep?"

A look passed over her, one that he had seen a thousand times yet never tired of seeing on a woman's face.

"It gets lonely sometimes, having this big room all to myself," She murmured.

Marius couldn't help but grin. "Well, if you'd permit me, Listener, I think I can help with that."

She leaned back onto her elbows, looking up at him with wide, eager eyes. Marius leaned over and blew out the candle on her nightstand before moving atop her.

"You've just been through a nightmare," He whispered. "We can take this slow."

He felt her nod in the darkness. "I would like that."

And so take things slow they did. Really, they didn't do much more than kiss until their eyes grew heavy, at which point Marius rolled onto his side and pulled Tabby in close. He got the sense that she was inexperienced, and perhaps wary due to all she had been through with Luven. He didn't mind. A girl like her was more than worth waiting for.

* * *

He awoke the next morning to find he had the bed to himself. Bewildered, he pushed back the covers and quietly stepped into the hallway.

Nazir's door was open. Tabby, dressed in armor but no cowl, had pulled the chair up to his bed. She sat beside him, talking quietly. Marius drew closer to hear what she was saying.

"…when I killed those two vampires masquerading as loggers? That was the first time you said you were proud of me. I've never forgotten that. I never will."

"Tabby?" Marius said softly. "Is he awake?"

Slowly she turned her head to look at him. "No," She admitted. "But I don't want him to be alone when he does wake up. I…I thought it might help if I spoke to him. I know that sounds silly."

"Not silly at all."

In search of breakfast, Marius made for the main chamber. Except he got lost along the way, and wound up in a small room with a grand steel coffin leaning upright against the wall. Was this the coffin Tabby claimed to hit her head on? Curiosity got the best of him, and he reached for the coffin's latch.

"Not another move, stranger!"

He whipped around to see, of all things, a jester glaring daggers at him. With an actual dagger in his hand.

Marius raised his hands slowly. "My apologies. I meant no disrespect."

"You're not one of us," The jester accused in a high-pitched snarl. "A not-so-sneaky thief, perhaps?"

"I am a thief, but I didn't come here to steal. My name is Marius Celata. I'm here with the Listener's blessing."

"Our fearless Listener has returned?" The jester did a small, strange jig. "Oh, happy day! And what of the sandman?"

"We all arrived here yesterday. Nazir is badly hurt, but he's going to be alright."

"Cicero! Stop bothering the Guildmaster!" Babette appeared in the doorway, giving the jester a stern look.

Cicero gave a dramatic gasp. "The _Guildmaster_! Well, I'll be! What an honored guest under our roof!" He returned his dagger to his holster with a flourish. "The un-child has spoken. Foolish Cicero will leave the Guildmaster well alone. As long as the Guildmaster keeps his grubby paws _off_ of Mother." With a maniacal laugh, he danced out of the room.

"I apologize," Babette said. "Cicero is off his rocker, but he's harmless…well, most of the time."

"What was he saying about a mother?"

Babette gestured towards the coffin. "This is the resting place of the Night Mother. Our Unholy Matron."

"The one Tabby thinks she can talk to."

Babette narrowed her eyes. "She _can_ speak to the Night Mother. The title of Listener isn't just an honorific, you know. The Night Mother whispers contracts to her, and only her. It's an immense honor."

Marius hesitated. He, admittedly, had thought it was just a title. And that Tabby, a bit undone by her difficult past, heard voices that she believed to be the Night Mother.

"So she's real?"

"The Night Mother? Oh, yes. The proof is there. The Listener knows the exact names and locations of clients flung all across the province. People who she never would have met on her own. And she knew the Binding Words at a time when only Cicero - the Keeper - knew that such words even existed." Babette shrugged. "You've seen the Lady Nocturnal with your own eyes, have you not? Why is the existence of the Night Mother any harder to accept?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Brynjolf likes to talk."

They carried on like that for two more days. Tabby spent nearly all her waking hours with Nazir, pausing only to eat, sleep, and give the occasional order to her band of assassins. Marius wandered the Sanctuary by day, conversing with Babette and subjecting himself to an occasional riddle from Cicero. At night, Tabby would stalk off to her bedroom with a heavy glance at Marius, and he knew that was his cue to follow. They didn't progress any farther than they had the first night, but even sleeping next to the Listener was more than enough for him.

On the third day, Marius joined Tabby in Nazir's room. He had busied himself reading one of the tomes on Nazir's shelf, when he heard stirring and a faint groan over by the bed.

Tabby leapt to her feet. "Nazir? Can you hear me?"

Slowly, as if with great effort, the Redguard's eyes opened a crack. "Tabby?"

A humongous grin spread across Tabby's face, unlike any Marius had seen from her before. "Babette! Babette, he's awake!"

Small footsteps echoed through the hallway as the vampire girl burst into the room. "Nobody touch him," She declared. "He's still very fragile."

"That mission couldn't have gone much worse, could it?" He said to Tabby with a weak smile.

"Yes, it could have. We could be dead."

"It seems I nearly was." He coughed loudly. "The last thing I remember is running at that bastard. Then everything went dark."

"That was incredibly stupid, you know," Tabby said.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Nobody speaks about my Listener that way."

Tabby couldn't help a smile. "Well, thank you for defending my honor. As idiotic as it was."

"I can't believe you spent your childhood with such a monster." He paused. "To be honest, I can't believe we all got out of there alive. How did that happen?"

"It was all Marius," She said with a nod in his direction. "He saved both of us."

Nazir turned his head to make eye contact with Marius. "Is that so? My boy, it seems that I greatly misjudged you. And for that I apologize."

"No apology necessary," Marius said. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Well, alright is a bit of a strong word," Nazir admitted. "My chest hurts like hell. And my limbs feel frozen solid."

"Can you move them?" Babette asked.

With a grimace, he lifted his arm to his face. "It's difficult, and it hurts." He grew somber. "Be honest, Babette. How much will I recover?"

"It's…difficult to say this early on."

Nazir nodded solemnly. "I see. No use moping about it, I suppose. I was getting old anyway."

Tabby rolled her eyes. "Please. You're forty-one."

"Downright ancient, in assassin years."

"Don't overdo yourself, Nazir," Babette warned. "You still need plenty of rest."

"Yes, yes, I know. But there's one more thing that should be discussed: where do we go from here?"

"If his allegations are true," Marius said slowly. "And he does have a true army of vampires waiting to conquer Skyrim, then we've encountered a problem far beyond the capabilities of the Guild and the Brotherhood."

"He's right," Babette said. "This could be a true national emergency. Worse than the civil war. Right up there with the dragons."

"What do we do, then?" Marius asked.

Tabby closed her eyes for a moment. "First, we need to better understand what we're dealing with here. I'm going to send two assassins to infiltrate the fortress. Try to scope out the nature of the threat. Then, if the situation is as dire as I fear, we're going to need reinforcements."

"And what reinforcements do you propose?" Babette asked. "I don't think any jarl will take terribly kindly to the Dark Brotherhood or the Thieves Guild asking for assistance."

"I know someone," Nazir rasped. "I met him at the Embassy. Seems like a good man in a scrape."

" _One_ man?" Babette said incredulously.

"Trust me, my girl. There was something about him. We want him on our side."

"Very well," Tabby said. "Give me the details, and I will fetch him."

"I'll go with you," Marius volunteered, perhaps a little too eagerly. He noticed Nazir give Tabby a quizzical look, but she quickly deflected.

"That's a great idea," She said. "Brynjolf certainly can hold down the Guild for another few days."

They were ready to depart the next morning. But first, Marius watched as Tabby pulled her cowl over her face and entered the training room, where two cowled assassins sparred with each other.

They halted and turned to face Tabby as she entered the room. "Listener," They both greeted her respectfully.

"I have a mission for the two of you," She said confidently, the shy murmurs of a pretty girl replaced with the strong command of a leader. "It's a dangerous one, but it's incredibly important. Do you accept?"

"Yes, of course, Listener," One assassin answered quickly, the other nodding in agreement.

"Good."

* * *

It was a relatively quick and peaceful journey to Whiterun. Tabby kept her cowl on the entire time, which Marius took as a "Do Not Kiss Me" signal. He understood; the imminent destruction of one's homeland was a bit of a mood-killer. The sight of her in full armor and cowl, eyes hard and icy once more, should have inspired fear in him. Instead, he just wanted her that much more.

Soon, they found themselves on a rather impressive doorstep: Jorrvaskr, the great and ancient hall of the Companions.

"Have you ever been inside?" Tabby asked. Marius shook his head.

"Me neither. Although I briefly thought about joining them, when I first arrived in Skyrim."

" _Really_?" Marius asked incredulously. "I can't even conceive of you as a Companion."

"I had a brief fantasy of being a straight-laced, law-abiding citizen. I thought I could use my powers of death and destruction for good. It never would have worked out," Her eyes gleamed, and Marius was sure she was smirking behind her cowl. "Murder is just too much fun."

They looked horribly out of place standing inside the great hall, looking about aimlessly. They were noticed immediately by a hulking Nord warrior.

"Something I can help you with, friends? Perhaps you're lost?" His tone didn't indicate that they were friends at all. Perhaps they should have thought twice about wearing their factions' respective armors.

"We're looking for a Redguard," Tabby said, pulling back her cowl in an apparent sign of goodwill. "We need his help."

"Only got one Redguard here. I'll fetch him. Provided you haven't got anything…sinister planned for him."

"No. You have my word."

The Nord disappeared down a corridor. About five minutes later, he was replaced by a muscled and scarred Redguard man. Despite his hulking frame and stony face, he had a thoroughly magnetizing presence. It was if he had stepped straight out of one of the myths of old, a legendary warrior in the flesh.

Tabby's eyes widened. "You!"

"The girl from Helgen," The Redguard said simply. "You seem to have done well for yourself since. I'm sure you have a name?"

"It's Tabby."

"Tabby." He turned to Marius next. "And you are?"

"Marius Celata."

He nodded in acknowledgement, as if the name meant something to him. Who knows; if he was well-attuned to happenings in the Thieves Guild, perhaps it did. "Marius. I am Azzam. I must ask what brings you to Jorrvaskr. I have a feeling you're not about to hire us to kill the skeevers in your basement."

Tabby cleared her throat. "My…friend. Nazir. He said you would be able to help us."

"Ah, my kinsman from the Embassy. I remember him well. Why isn't he the one standing before me?"

"He's hurt," Tabby said. "In fact, he's lucky to even be alive. And that's what we need your help with. An extremely powerful vampire has come to Skyrim. And he's raised an army of his kind, ready to turn Skyrim into a vampire state."

Azzam raised his eyebrows, his first sign of emotion. "That…that is a problem."

"Nazir said there was something about you. Something special," Tabby continued. "And I agree. Surely you remember looking into each other's eyes in Dragonsreach. We both felt it."

"Yes, I remember. Because I felt the same about you. That you had a powerful destiny awaiting you. Tell me, girl from Helgen. What became of you after that fateful day?"

She took a deep breath before admitting, "I joined the Dark Brotherhood. And I became their Listener."

"That sounds about right. Your aura seemed darker than mine. Not that this is a bad thing. The world rests on the balance between the darkness and the light."

Marius was shocked by the warrior's acceptance. Tabby, however, seemed unfazed.

"And who are you?" She asked.

"I am Azzam of Sentinel. I am the newest Harbinger of the Companions. But most importantly, I am Dovahkiin."

Both Marius and Tabby were speechless. Tabby's mouth hung agape. It was then that Marius remembered her Nord heritage. While this was a fascinating encounter for him, for her this was likely the meeting of a lifetime.

"By the gods…" She breathed.

"Easy, now. I am not royalty. I am not a god. I am merely a man with a destiny. Much like yourself."

"You must have many more important things to do than listen to our pleas for help," Tabby said. "Banishing the World-Eater, and all."

"The threat of Alduin's return is severe. This is true. But so too is an army of vampires. I will help you, Listener. Nightingale," He added with a nod at Marius.

"How did you…"

"Like I said. Destiny. Those who have one are drawn to one another. Now, here is what I propose," He motioned for them to sit around a small table before continuing.

"I know from experience that the Legion and the Stormcloaks will be, at best, useless. They insist on continuing their petty fighting, even with the dragon crisis afoot. I wouldn't put it past the fools to try and align themselves with the vampires in an attempt to destroy the other." He shook his head in disgust. "We cannot rely on any general or any jarl. We as faction leaders must join together to address this threat."

Marius considered this. "Between all of us, we do have considerable resources at our disposal. Not as much manpower, but we just might be able to make up for that with pure skill."

"My thoughts exactly." The Dragonborn stood, towering over Marius and Tabby. "I will contact Victoire Pierrane. She was recently appointed Arch-Mage of the College. You two will gather your seconds-in-command and meet me in one week at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. There we will plan our preemptive strike."

Azzam looked to be about ten years older than Marius, and in that moment he felt very much like he and Tabby were two children being ordered around by their teacher. This didn't sit fantastically with him, but Tabby nodded in acquiescence, seemingly unbothered.

"It will be done." She said. "Thank you, Dovahkiin."

"Safe travels, Listener."

"He seems a bit full of himself, don't you think?" Marius muttered to her as they left Jorrvaskr.

"He's the _Dragonborn_. He's allowed to be full of himself."

"A bit star-struck, are we?" Marius laughed, earning a scowl from Tabby. She changed the subject.

"Who are you bringing to Riverwood? I assume Brynjolf?"

"Most certainly. And Nazir for you?"

"Yes, but I worry he's not well enough to travel. I'm also worried about tackling something this big without him."

"You can more than hold your own. But I understand. I value Bryn's opinion very highly myself."

That evening on the road they sat up talking, as they had every night on the trip to Whiterun. Then Marius moved in to kiss by the firelight. But Tabby pulled away.

"I'm…tired," She said. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," He said, more confused than hurt. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, of course not. I just…need some rest."

When he dropped Tabby off in Dawnstar, he was desperate to kiss her. But now he wasn't sure if he should, especially since she made no move to lower her cowl.

"See you soon, Listener."

"I look forward to it, Guildmaster."

* * *

"I still don't understand why this grand meeting has to take place in this backwater hovel."

"Because the _Dragonborn_ decreed it, Bryn." Marius sneered.

He knew that Brynjolf had been touched when he asked him to attend the meeting. But the practicalities of it were…irritating to the Nord, to say the least.

"It could be worse."

Brynjolf scoffed. "Name a town more painfully boring than Riverwood."

"Morthal. Trust me on that one. I'd take Riverwood over Morthal a thousand times."

Brynjolf laughed. "Fair enough. I'd wager most people would."

An easy silence settled between them for a few minutes. Then Brynjolf cleared his throat.

"Be honest with me, lad. Man to man. The girl."

"What about her?"

"What's the end goal? Are you trying to bed her? _Wed_ her?"

"Aw, come on, Bryn…"

"I'm serious, Mar. One hand, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. On the other, I've never seen you smitten like this. You won't shut up about the lass. I can practically see the stars in your eyes when you look at her."

" _Smitten_?"

Brynjolf ignored him. "She is a looker, there's no denying that. But there are plenty of beautiful women in Skyrim who would throw themselves at you, given the chance. Women who aren't so…complicated, politically speaking."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I would tread carefully if I were you. Wooing her could bring the Brotherhood closer to us, but breaking her heart could alienate them for good. So if all you're after is another conquest, make sure she knows that."

Even though they were a full day early, they were not the first ones to arrive. They pulled into Riverwood just before sunset to find two assassins sitting on the front porch of the inn, a cane resting across Nazir's lap. So he was well enough to make the trip. He looked a bit frail and seemed to be masking a grimace of pain, but he was there.

Tabby gave a small smile at the sight of them, and leapt from the porch with the grace of a deer. Or perhaps a saber cat.

"Take a walk with me, will you?"

They took a leisurely stroll to the river's edge. It was almost as if they were an ordinary young couple, on one of their first courtships.

She paused at the shoreline and turned to face him. "I know the other night by the fire must have confused you, given how things have been going."

Marius didn't know what to say. "Perhaps a bit. But I don't feel entitled to your affection, you know."

"I know. And I appreciate that. See, that's just it." She paused and looked down at her feet. When she met his eyes again, her face was ever so slightly reddened. "I like you, Marius. And I'd like to…take things further. But I'm nervous, because I don't know where we stand. And I don't want to just be another notch in your bedpost, like all those rich Solitude women."

"I could never think of you that way…"

"And I want to believe that. But sometimes it's hard to know what's real and what's charm and beguilement."

There was an odd, pained look on her face. The look of a young woman who had been subject to countless manipulations, abuses, and disappointments.

He took her face gently in both hands, staring deep into her eyes. "This is real," He said softly. "I've never felt like this about anyone before. I've never wanted anything more than to be yours."

The icebergs in her eyes melted. Her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. And this was what so transfixed him. How in one moment she could be deadly, commanding, fierce, and the next show her vulnerability, her soul.

"Be mine, then."

Marius, admittedly, had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. But when their lips met that time, he swore he felt their spirits join together too.

It was after dark by the time they returned to the inn. Nazir and Brynjolf were nowhere to be found. Instead, two unfamiliar men stood rigidly on the porch.

…Except as he and Tabby drew closer, Marius realized they weren't men at all. They were cats.

The smaller of the two smiled. Or at least, he thought it was a smile.

"We meet again, Nord-child," The Khajiit purred. "The moons have told us that you require our assistance."


	27. Chapter 27: The Mane

Tabby opened her mouth, but for a moment she was too dumbfounded to speak. At last she managed to ask, "How did you find me?"

"Ah, so you heeded our advice, and chose to trust the half-elf. A wise choice," Kijjan nodded approvingly, ignoring Tabby's question completely. "Wise indeed. And what of the trinket, Tabby-cat? This one hopes you did not pawn it for gleamy coin."

In truth, Tabby had forgotten all about the ruby they had gifted her on the tundra. She dug it out of the bottom of her satchel, holding it out to Kijjan in her palm.

"Excellent! This is a smart one, Kharjo."

"Did the moons say _why_ I needed your help?"

"Hold on," Marius said. "Did it just call me a half-elf?"

"The moons do not speak in such specificities," Kijjan corrected her, this time ignoring Marius. Perhaps the darkness was playing tricks on her, but Tabby was sure that her mane was bigger than the last time they met. "Only that Skyrim is threatened, and the girl who walks in the darkness is the one to save it."

"Let's make one thing clear. I'm no hero. I'm just trying to avoid an eternity as a vampire's sex slave."

"Hero, villain, all such arbitrary terms," Kijjan said. "What matters is what one does. Do you not agree, Kharjo?"

"Quite."

Tabby shook her head in bewilderment. "So exactly how do you plan on helping?"

"That will reveal itself later. Now, the journey was long, and this one is famished."

"And cold," Kharjo added.

"And cold. Come, Nord-child. Half-elf. We retreat inside."

A gust of warm air whispered across Tabby's face as they stepped through the threshold into the Sleeping Giant Inn. Nazir and Brynjolf sat in the corner with two tankards of mead. Both gave a bewildered look when they spotted Tabby and Marius standing beside two Khajiit.

"Friends of yours, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

When Tabby hesitated, Kijjan answered for her.

"Friends indeed," She purred. "We met this one on the great tundras of Whiterun. And now we come to help."

"Uh-huh. And what makes you think you'll be of any help?"

"Kind sir," Said Kharjo. "I would ask you reconsider your tone when speaking to the Mane."

"The Mane?" Brynjolf looked to his human companions, but no one seemed to know what Kharjo meant. Tabby least of all.

"This one is the spiritual head of Elsweyr," Kharjo explained with a respectful nod to Kijjan. "There is only one Mane at any one time, born only when the moons align just so."

"Right. So what is the 'spiritual head of Elsweyr' doing wandering about Skyrim?" Nazir asked.

The corners of Kijjan's mouth turned downward, baring a couple of her fangs. "I have been dethroned and disgraced by the Thalmor," She said. "I spoke badly of the elven terrors, and they turned my own people against me. I had no choice but to flee Elswyr, and make for the frozen north-land."

"What in Oblivion is she talking about?" Marius muttered in Tabby's ear.

She shrugged. "This is all news to me." Then she turned to Kijjan.

"Is that why you said you were searching? Are you looking for a way to go home?"

Kijjan nodded. "My people need me. Even if they do not realize this in the moment. This is why I have agreed to help the storm-man."

"The storm-man… _Ulfric Stormcloak_?" Brynjolf's brow crinkled in surprise.

"Indeed. He is not too fond of my kind, but we both have a need of each other. So we search for his trinket. And in return, he will help me reclaim my homeland from the elven terrors."

"I thought the Khajiit supported the Thalmor," Nazir said bemusedly.

Kijjan's eyes narrowed. " _Some_ Khajiit recognize them for what they are. Such as myself. And this one," She said, pointing to Kharjo. "But now, I must delay my task for the storm-man. For a terrible threat passes over this land and its people. And the storm-man is of no use to me if he is dead or thralled."

"Very well. The cats can stay," Brynjolf decided for the group. Marius opened his mouth to protest - perhaps still offended by the 'half-elf' moniker - but Brynjolf gave him a stern look and he shut his mouth. Tabby had to suppress a smile. She knew those kinds of nonverbal interactions all too well.

"I think many of us have had long days of travel," Nazir said diplomatically. "Perhaps we resume this discussion when the Dragonborn and the Arch-Mage arrive tomorrow?"

"I think that's a great idea," Tabby said quickly. And that was the end of it. The Khajiit approached the innkeeper to book a room, Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. Marius looked dissatisfied, but he said nothing further.

Late that night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Tabby lay wide awake. The Dragonborn and the Arch-Mage would arrive the next day, and plans would be made to take down Luven once and for all. This was a day that she truly never thought would see come.

In truth, she had been plain stupid to think that she, Marius and Nazir could stop him all by themselves. It was wishful thinking, really. But now that she accepted that she couldn't do this on her own, perhaps she had a real shot.

There was a soft knock at the door. It cracked open, and Marius poked his head inside.

"So you are awake," He said. "I wondered how anyone could get any sleep at a time like this."

His Guildmaster's armor was gone, in its place simple linen pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His hair was tousled, and he was barefoot. He looked young. Vulnerable.

Tabby sat up on her elbows. "Are you going to come in, or just stand there gawking?"

With a crooked smile he padded over to her bedside. He sat down on the edge of her bed, staring down at her with those huge, warm brown eyes. She sat up fully, and leaned in to kiss him.

Lips interlocking, Tabby grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him on top of her as she laid back down. Then she tugged at the hems until he took the hint and pulled it off altogether. A life of thieving had served him well. He was all lean muscle, toned from a lifetime of hauling himself through windows and outrunning the guards.

He snaked a tentative hand under her own night shirt. She gave an encouraging sigh, and soon her shirt was gone as well.

"This is okay?"

She smiled. "More than okay."

Their pants came off next, then their undergarments, and soon they were both naked, Marius quivering with desire as he lay on top of Tabby.

"Do you want this?" He whispered into her ear, eliciting a groan.

"Yes. Gods, yes."

"Is this your first time?" He asked, running his hands down her body.

She nodded, and he smiled and planted a kiss on her lips.

"I'll go slow."

It only hurt for a minute. She had never expected much from her first time with a man, but Marius clearly knew what he was doing. No wonder all those Solitude women were so besotted with him.

She wondered if she should be doing something besides just laying there. So she wrapped her hands in his hair and pulled gently. That earned her a soft moan from Marius, so clearly she was on the right track. Then she dug her nails into his back and scraped downward, which made him grin and throw his head back.

Perhaps she was getting the hang of this. Until he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

This was completely uncharted territory. Astrid had always wanted to be in charge. Sensing her bewilderment, Marius placed his hands on her hips and gently guided her.

"Up and down, that's it." That crooked smile spread across his face again as he tilted his chin up.

It felt good. Really good. She reached back to brace herself on his leg, and started to go faster. He groaned loudly, and she grinned and pressed a finger to her lips.

"You'll wake the entire inn." She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. He shuddered, then took hold of her again and gently tossed her onto her stomach.

His thrusts grew faster and shallower. Tabby began to grow nervous. Would she become pregnant? How would she raise a baby in a dingy Sanctuary, surrounded by deadly weapons?

As if reading her mind, he abruptly pulled out. Marius grabbed a rag from the bedside, cleaning her and then himself. Then he gently rolled her onto her back once more and planted a long but gentle kiss on her lips.

"Was that alright?" He whispered. Tabby smiled.

"That was great." She said. And it was. But it was missing something. Something she had always had with Astrid.

Luckily, Marius appeared to have the same thought. "Well, I don't think we're quite done yet." He kissed her neck, then her collarbones. Her breasts, her navel, all the way down to her inner thighs.

Astrid had known what she was doing in this area. But so did Marius. Now it was Tabby's turn to wake up the entire inn.

When she finally quieted down he laid down next to her and pulled her close. "How do you feel?" He asked.

"Exhausted," She breathed. "But in a good way."

Truthfully, she had never imagined a man could make her feel this way. Not after all that a man had put her through. But Marius had gone and proved her wrong.

He gently stroked her hair, his skin warm against hers. Her eyes grew heavy, and the last thing she heard before she fell asleep was, "You might just make an honest man out of me."

* * *

"Do you care to explain why I saw a certain thief slipping out of your room early this morning?"

"Do you care to explain why that's any of your business?" Tabby said with an annoyed look at Nazir, as they shoveled porridge into their mouths at a large table in the great room.

Nazir threw up his hands. "Your personal life is not my business," He admitted. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your professional life."

"Would you have me be alone forever? Until I become an old, spindly crone? Astrid was married…"

"Astrid was not the Listener. She was extremely valuable to our Brotherhood, but ultimately replaceable. You are not."

"Sleep well, Nord-child?" Kijjan pulled up a chair to the table, followed quickly by Kharjo.

"Well enough," Tabby said tersely.

Marius followed soon, giving a shy smile to Tabby. Nazir rolled his eyes.

At last, Brynjolf appeared, bleary-eyed and yawning. All that remained was the Dragonborn and the Arch-Mage.

They arrived just before noon. Azzam was accompanied by a fierce looking Nord woman, complete with warpaint, a slight and prim Breton woman, and an elderly Nord man, both clad in mage robes. An odd traveling party, to be sure.

Either with uneasiness or exhaustion - or both - they took their seats at the table.

"I believe some introductions are in order. I am Azzam. Harbinger of the Companions and Dovahkiin. And this is Aela, my second."

"My name is Victoire Pierrane," The Breton woman said coolly, eyeing the rest of the table with distaste. "I am the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am accompanied by Tolfdir, my mentor and confidante."

Tabby could already tell she and Victoire Pierrane were not going to be fast friends.

Tabby, Marius and Kijjan quickly introduced themselves and their companions, albeit with much less fanfare than the Arch-Mage.

Azzam opened his mouth to speak when they had finished, but Victoire interjected.

"I must say, Azzam. This is very irregular. The College is a respectable institution. We have no precedence for cavorting with assassins, thieves and Khajiit."

" _Assassins, thieves, and Khajiit_?" Nazir muttered incredulously under his breath, thankfully unheard to everyone but Tabby.

"I realize this is a bit of a…unique crowd," Azzam said carefully. "But the time has come for our factions to unite against a common threat."

"The dragons?"

"The war?"

The Dragonborn shook his head. "Vampires. A horde of them, posed to strike at Solitude and enslave us all."

"Preposterous!" Tolfdir cried. Marius shook his head.

"It's true." Marius said somberly. "Nazir, Tabby and I met their leader. He's stronger than anything I've ever seen. And he's truly a monster."

"I sent two scouts to infiltrate their stronghold," Tabby added. "And it's worse than we thought. He truly has an army, ready to destroy us at any moment."

"And why hasn't anyone reported this to the Legion? Or the jarl?" Victoire asked shrilly.

Azzam laughed bitterly. "You honestly think General Tullius and Jarl Elisif will do a damned thing? They're so caught up in their war, they couldn't find their own asses with both hands."

Marius nodded in agreement. "It's on us. We hold a lot of power in Skyrim. We have resources. And despite our…differences in philosophy, it's in all of our best interests to avoid becoming vampire thralls."

Victoire exhaled sharply. Tolfdir murmured something in her ear. Then she raised her head high and spoke.

"Out of respect for you, Azzam, I will lend my support. But let me be clear. I do not condone the operations of the Thieves Guild nor the Dark Brotherhood, and the College will not be colluding with them for a moment longer than we must. And as for _you_ ," She gave a stern look to the Khajiit. "I'm not sure why you're even at this table to begin with, but even a hint of funny business and you will be very, very sorry."

Kijjan smiled, but her ears flattened against her head. Perhaps it was actually a snarl.

"The witch-woman has nothing to worry about. This one gives her word."

" _Witch-woman_?" Victoire's mouth hung open in indignation, but Azzam quickly cut in.

"Let us discuss our strategy. Though we do wield considerable power, many of our factions are in a stage of rebuilding. We have to carefully execute our plan if we are to be successful."

"We have to kill their leader. Luven," Tabby said firmly. "He's the key. Otherwise he'll just raise another army in some other corner of the province."

"I agree," Azzam said. "But is a direct attack on a fortress filled with vampires the wisest course of action?"

"Of course it's not," Aela said testily. "A direct attack means the Companions and the mages suffer the casualties, while the murderers and thieves prance around in the shadows."

"Listener," Brynjolf cut in, ignoring Aela's dig. "How successful were your scouts in infiltrating this fort?"

"Not very," Tabby admitted. "Granted, they were two novices. But they didn't even make it inside. Apparently they peered into the courtyard, saw a legion of vampires at training, and bolted."

Kijjan's tail swished. "Nord-child, show us the trinket again."

Bewildered, Tabby acquiesced. She held the ruby in her palm for the table to see.

"A pretty gem, yes," Aela said irritably.

Kijjan ignored her. "Take off your gloves."

She did. And as her bare hand touched the gem once more, it seemed to ignite from within. Its interior now glowed brightly, and Tabby swore she could hear it crackle and sizzle ever so faintly.

"Now let the half-elf hold it. No gloves."

Gingerly, she passed it off to Marius. Once the ruby reached his hand, its glow immediately extinguished, and it turned silent once more.

Marius passed it to Brynjolf, who passed it to Nazir. Nothing. Then he handed it to Tabby. It began to glow again.

"What the hell is this?" Nazir asked.

"Is it an artifact of the Night Mother?" Tabby supposed."Is that why it only works for me?"

"No," Kijjan said. "The reasons why will be revealed in time. For now, all you must know is that the trinket, when handled by the right Nord, is highly, highly lethal to vampires."

Victoire Pierrane blinked in exasperation. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Nobody asked the Khajiit. Only accused them of mischief."

Tabby stifled a laugh. Good on Kijjan.

Meanwhile, Brynjolf's eyes gleamed mischievously.

"I have an idea. It's utterly mad, but it might just be mad enough to work."


	28. Chapter 28: The Battle of Four Factions

_**Nazir**_

"Have they seen us yet?"

"It appears not."

"How many at the exterior?"

"Not many. Ten, fifteen thralls at the most."

Azzam's voice boomed steady, commanding. "Archers at the ready."

Tabby and Aela expertly notched their arrows and lined up their shots.

"Battlemages?"

The group of mages brandished staffs and handfuls of fire.

"Everyone has their targets?

A chorus of nods and murmured affirmations.

"Steady, and…FIRE!"

From the party's attack point atop a small hill came a volley of arrows and fireballs, almost every one hitting their target. The thralls were a bit sturdier than expected; some staggered to their feet and took off running in the direction of the assault. As the archers and mages readied another round, it was time for Nazir to spring into action. Drawing his scimitar, he joined the Companions and the two Khajiit in charging the remaining forces.

It was unnerving, really. He swore at least one of them groaned, " _Thank you_ ," as Nazir cut him down. A death sentence for the crime of being a damn unlucky bastard.

After the last one went down, Azzam wiped his blade on the grass before sheathing it and turning to look back up the hill. "That's about as clean of an entrance as you're going to get," He called.

Nazir turned to watch as the trinity emerged over the grassy knoll. They were a truly a sight to behold, in armor so black it appeared to be forged from the Void itself; capes billowing gently in the wind behind them, masks that covered everything but two tiny pinholes of light where their eyes must be.

He sauntered back up the hill, where Tabby was practically quivering over Marius. Apparently this dark and dangerous side of the Guildmaster had her seal of approval.

"How will you get in?" She asked him, reaching up to stroke his masked cheek.

"Not through the front door, that's for damn sure," Marius's muffled voice answered teasingly. So despite his fearsome appearance, it really was the same rascal of a man underneath.

"Every fortress has a weak point," Karliah's melodic voice rang softly. "We'll find it." Nazir had never met her before now, but he was certain that she was beautiful under the mask.

The Nightingales forged ahead, stealthily as they could manage in the mid-afternoon sun. For the rest of the lot - the faction leaders plus Aela, Tolfdir, Nazir, the Khajiit, and an assortment of fighters from the various factions - All there was to do was wait.

Thirty minutes passed. The thieves were probably moving slowly, not taking any chances. It had to be bloody dark inside the fortress, a boon to both the Nightingales and the vampires.

Forty-five minutes passed. Perhaps they had gotten lost in the maze of corridors, or were looking for the best place to strike.

It was shortly after the hour mark that he could tell Tabby was beginning to worry. These three were the best in the business. What was taking so long?

Finally, finally, there it was. They heard the thundering booms first, and then three massive bursts of flame, one at each point of the fortress, careening into the air.

Azzam nodded in approval. "Let phase three begin."

 _ **Marius**_

All three of them were scared. But none would admit that this was, without a doubt, the most terrifying mission any of them had undertaken.

It was nearly pitch black inside the fortress, only a few wayward torches providing a small sphere of light every few hundred feet. Skyrim's vampires did not have Detect Life abilities, thank Nocturnal, but they did have Night Eye. Which meant that the Nightingales might as well have been blind men trying to sneak through the Riften market at midday.

Marius realized too late that they should have brought an assassin with them. The three of them could stealth kill if they had to, but it wasn't their area of expertise. They couldn't put down a grown man as quickly and quietly as the Brotherhood could. And that was a problem.

Silently, they stuck to the walls and moved excruciatingly slowly, screeching to a halt at the first sign of movement. To their immense relief, most of the guards patrolling the corridors were either thralls or young vampires, highly distractible and easy to sneak past by throwing a rock in the other direction.

But then they reached a great hall, where it appeared that a large group vampires sat together round a long banquet table. From their conversation, it sounded like they were lieutenants of Luven's. Not anyone they would want to go toe-to-toe with.

Marius nodded towards Brynjolf, who threw up his hands in confusion. Marius pointed to the Nightingale symbol on his armor, and then he seemed to understand. Brynjolf stood from his crouch, and a pulsating burst of red light emanated from his chest and into the hall. Instantly, the vampires jumped to their feet and began attacking each other. In the midst of the chaos, the three were able to slip by with ease.

Through the hall they encountered the staircase to the first tower. Their first striking point. Karliah nodded, and stayed behind while the two men carried on. She had said that she would know the proper moment when it arrived. Marius hoped she was right.

Deeper into the lion's den they drove. Reaching the strike points was taking much longer than they thought it would. They were getting tired, and tired meant sloppy. There were close calls: Marius nearly rammed into a thrall in the darkness, and they were actually spotted by a vampire. It was mostly luck that Brynjolf managed to sever its jugular on the first go before it could raise the alarm.

At long last, they reached the second tower. This was where Brynjolf would stay and count to a thousand, while Marius carried on alone. He still had his Shadowcloak available to him that day, but he would have to use it wisely. And yet, he could not afford to go as slowly as he would like, or Brynjolf would strike without him.

If Delvin's maps served correctly, it was just a few more turns through the maze of corridors now. Luckily for him, the amount of patrols in the halls seemed to be getting more sparse the deeper he went.

And then there he was. Dimly illuminated by a torch was the steel door Delvin had told him to look out for. This was the final strike point.

He had a feeling - perhaps the feeling Karliah had insisted on - that this was the proper moment. Without hesitation, he reached to his belt and pulled out a large flask of oil, spilling it liberally on the floor. Then casually strolled to the torch affixed to the wall and knocked it to the ground.

 _ **Victoire**_

The thieves had clearly been successful. The fortress was burning; the smell of smoke and the sound of collapsing beams hung in the air. And, eventually, the survivors began to trickle out.

Brynjolf's plan was working. The vampires who managed to make it out of the fortress were so weakened by the sun's burning light that it was child's play for her mages to finish them off with a few fireballs.

The murderess, however, was no help at all. She stood nervously off to the side, wringing her hands. Clearly wondering what had become of the thieves. Or rather, one in particular.

Victoire wasn't a fool. She had seen how she looked at him in Riverwood. Young, twisted love was in the air.

Really, she felt sorry for the girl. She was probably mentally ill, but even if the voices she heard were real it didn't change the fact that the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild were exploiting a troubled teenager to boost their infamy and power. She had half a mind to try and get through to the poor thing, try and get her to come back to the College for rehabilitation. But she feared that "Tabby" - if that was even her real name - was too thoroughly brainwashed already.

Soon, it seemed as if they had put down the last of the vampires. It had been twenty minutes since they had last seen any movement. Surely the rest had burned by now. Along with the thieves, if there was any justice.

But alas, a few minutes gone by and there appeared two figures cloaked in black, running towards the grassy knoll. The female figure pulled off her mask, revealing a face that was pretty - for a Dunmer.

The elf's self-satisfied smile quickly faltered. "Where's Marius?"

Tabby's head shot up almost comically. "He wasn't with you?"

"No. We all split up. Brynjolf and I found each other on the battlements, after climbing out the tower windows. Marius continued deeper into the fortress."

The other one - Brynjolf - looked around. "Did Luven make an appearance?"

Azzam shook his head. "I'm hesitant to assume that he died in the fire. From what the Listener has said, it seems like he's got all manner of tricks to keep himself alive."

"I'm going in there," Tabby said abruptly, pulling her cowl back over her face.

"Like hell you are," Nazir said. "You'll burn to a crisp."

"Marius is missing. I don't believe for a second that Luven is dead. I need to be the one to find them both."

"Let this one accompany you, Nord-child," Kijjan said. "Khajiit are good luck. The Mane especially."

Before anyone could stop them, the two took off sprinting madly for the fortress.

"Have you ever seen anyone run so eagerly towards their deaths?" Tolfdir muttered to Victoire. She laughed.

"As long as it's not my head on the line, what do I care?"

 _ **Kijjan**_

The Tabby-cat moved quickly, but that was just fine with Kijjan. It was admirable, the way she charged into the burning castle without any fear. Admirable, or very stupid.

It was unbearably hot inside, especially for those who had fur. It was also difficult for the lungs in the smoky haze. On a positive, they saw no living vampires. Only burnt corpses. Which was just as well. Khajiit were not so fond of the undead.

"How do you plan to find the half-elf?" She asked.

"Luven has something to do with this," Tabby replied. "I'm sure of it. If we find one, we find the other."

They dodged flames and falling rubble and cracking support beams, but soon the duo came to a large steel door. It was sealed shut.

The Tabby-cat turned to Kijjan. "I'm not a very good lockpick."

She smiled. "Ah, but this one is."

It was not one of the standard, pitiful locks that the Nordfolk loved to put on their doors as decorations. But still was it very little match for Kijjan. Only three lockpicks laid to rest before the door creaked open.

The girl hesitated. Kijjan put an encouraging paw on her shoulder.

"Remember who you are. Remember what you have. You are destined to do this."

"Are you coming with me?"

"No. The girl must fulfill her destiny on her own."

"If the fire gets too dangerous out here, leave. I'll find my own way out."

"Moons guide you. Listener."

The Nord pulled back her cowl. She removed one glove. Then she hauled open the door, disappearing inside.

But the Mane would not leave. She would stay right outside that door, no matter how hot the blazes grew or how heavy the smoke, ready to assist the Nord.

The men-folk had been skeptical of Kijjan when she arrived in the river town. They didn't believe that she could help. But the moons had told her that this very moment was when she was needed most. Even if it meant she would never again see her beloved homeland. This, too, was Kijjan's destiny.

Suddenly, the ears pricked. Someone was calling very faintly for help. Kijjan left her post ever so briefly to follow the noise around the corner.

And there was the half-elf, a leg pinned under a piece of the castle.

"Kijjan?" He groaned. "I thought I heard your and Tabby's voices."

"Oh dear," She said. "The half-elf has gotten himself into trouble, indeed."

"I was hit by falling rubble right after setting off the explosion. Can you get me loose?"

"I will try. And if I fail, all we need do is cut your leg off."

" _What_?"

 _ **Tabby**_

The steel door had done well at sealing off the heat and smoke from the interior. And for some reason, the walls and rafters seemed completely immune from the damage inflicted on the rest of the fortress. A vampire could stay holed up in here for a long time to come.

There he was, across the room. Luven stood with his back to her, staring out the room's one window.

"So. You've undoubtedly come here because you think you can kill me."

Tabby pulled her cowl down. "What have you done to Marius?"

Luven turned to look at her, his face more contorted than ever with vampirism. How long had it been since he fed?

"The thief? If he's lucky, he died in the explosion. If not, I'll deal with him shortly."

Tabby's face contorted in anger, but Luven just laughed.

"I see. You think you have feelings for the whelp."

Tabby said nothing. He slowly began to approach her.

"What can he give you? Free reign over the Riften sewers? I can give you all of Skyrim."

"Not anymore, you can't."

He snorted. "It would be nothing for me to raise another army." He took a step towards her. "You and I are meant for each other, Tabby. You're just too foolish to see that." He held his hand out to her. "This is your last chance. I've been more than generous with you. And now my patience is running out."

Her hand drifted to the hidden pocket in her armor. "Do vampires go to the Void?" She mused. "Or are you damned to some other torture in the afterlife? One of us is about to find out."

Luven laughed uproariously. "So that's how you want to play it? Very well," He drew a sword from his hip. "I'll have you begging me to turn you by the time we're through."

He lunged, but Tabby was ready. She dodged his swing and quickly drew the Blade of Woe. He was stronger, and faster. But she had the Night Mother on her side.

And so they danced, blades clashing and bodies dodging. At one point he overpowered her block and threw her to the ground, but she rolled away quickly.

"Over 500 years I waited for you to even be born," He spat as she clambered to her feet. "And this is how you repay me?"

"You're delusional," Tabby replied, taking a swing that he ducked. "You just happened upon me in Falkreath and decided I was an easy victim."

"Perhaps we met by chance. Perhaps it was fate. As soon as I saw you, I knew. You were the one I was waiting for." He struck, hitting her shallowly in the shoulder. "Remember how happy you were when you loved me? It can be like that again."

Distracted by his sick ramblings, she didn't notice until it was too late that he was backing her into the wall. With nowhere to maneuver, she was effectively trapped.

"Just tell me that you haven't let that slimy pickpocket fuck you."

She gave him a cruel smile. The same one she used to taunt her prey.

"I have. And it was _fantastic._ "

"Whore!" He snarled, raising his sword. "Do you know how I long I waited? I was supposed to be your deflowering. You are _mine_ , Tabby. All mine!"

Suddenly, he was tackled backwards and to the ground by a snarl of armor and fur. Kijjan raked her claws across Luven's face, cutting his skin into bloody ribbons. Luven fired off a powerful lightning spell, and Kijjan fell to the floor, jerking grotesquely as she clutched at her heart.

Tabby took a step towards Luven as he staggered to his feet.

"I belong to no man."

Her ungloved hand reached into her pocket, drew the ruby, and threw it at Luven with all her might.

It let out a massive of burst of red light on impact, immolating Luven immediately.

He fell to his knees, screaming in pain as the flames consumed him. But he was still alive.

" _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE_?" He wailed as Tabby stood over him, unflinching. Unfeeling.

"Beg for death, Luven."

Arrogant until the end, he fell to the floor and continued to writhe for a few moments more. Then, at last:

" _KILL ME_." He screamed in desperation.

She drew the Blade of Woe. "Beg me."

" _PLEASE. PLEASE, TABBY. PLEASE KILL ME_."

"Say my real name."

" _PLEASE…EILIS_."

With her bare hand, she plunged her blade into his still-flaming chest, driving it deep into his heart with an extra twist. Her hand did not burn.

She felt his life force drain away, and her own grow stronger and stronger. It was the most exquisite kill she had ever experienced.

The flames flickered out as he keeled over, dead. But there, embedded in his throat, was the ruby, completely undamaged. With a strong tug, she jerked the stone from his body and returned it to her pocket.

She should have been overjoyed. She should have been crying tears of relief. But really, it hadn't sunk in. After twelve years of living in fear, it was over. Luven was dead. And she was free.

But she didn't have time to revel in her victory now. Marius was still missing, and Kijjan appeared to be seriously injured. She approached the Khajiit, who lay curled up on the floor.

"Kijjan?"

"This one is not well," She whimpered softly. "The heart. It struggles to beat."

"Tell it to keep struggling. We're going to get you out of here."

"The half-elf is outside. He is also unwell."

She swallowed hard. How was she going to get two injured people out safely? She needed help. She looked to the window. By the luck of the gods, it faced the grassy knoll where her party stood waiting.

She stuck her torso out the window and waved frantically. From her distance, she could see Nazir take notice and point. Azzam and Karliah were running towards her now, and scaled the wall with shockingly little effort.

Azzam looked around, noticing Luven's charred corpse on the floor. "Well done, Listener. Whether you want to be a hero or not, you've done Skyrim a great service."

Karliah knelt to assess Kijjan. "She shouldn't try to walk," She said. "Azzam and I will have to carry her out. Can you tend to Marius?"

She exited into the hallway, where Marius sat slumped against the wall with cowl in his lap, clutching his left leg.

He smiled weakly when he saw her. "Did you finish it?"

"I did."

"I knew you would."

"What happened to your leg?"

"Crushed by falling rubble. I think it'll mend, though. Eventually."

She knelt before him and put her bare hand on his cheek. He looked deep into her eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She swallowed, and tried again.

"I…I'm glad you're alright."

For just an instant, she swore she saw disappointment flicker in Marius's eyes. But then he gritted his teeth and managed a weak smile.

"'Alright' might be a bit generous. But I'll get there."

The fire blazed and the walls crumbled around them. Kijjan was inches from death. But as Marius leaned forward, wincing, to plant a passionate kiss on her lips, she had a feeling that they would get to alright.


	29. Chapter 29: The Crossroads

The mages had returned to Winterhold, Aela to Whiterun, and Karliah to the Twilight Sepulcher. The rest retreated to the Ragged Flagon to debrief and to treat Kijjan.

The Mane had lost consciousness during the ride back to Riften, and still had not risen. Kharjo remained at her side at all hours, barely pausing even to sleep. Everyone else gathered around one of the large tables in the tavern.

Though they drank to their success, there was a somber air surrounding them. Kijjan had been instrumental in Luven's downfall. Now she might be paying for it with her life.

There was a lot left to be said between herself and Marius as well. They had declared their love for each other. But there were a great deal of practicalities that came along with that.

"Tabby." Nazir's low voice echoed across the table.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was asking you when you thought we would be returning to Dawnstar."

She exhaled slowly. "You should return as soon as possible. I'm sure Babette's doing a fine job, but she's got a lot on her plate."

"And you?"

"I want to wait until Kijjan wakes up. So I can thank her properly."

This was true. But she also needed time to speak with Marius, without Nazir hovering over her shoulder.

Nazir sighed. "Very well. Then I best make way for Dawnstar. Write to me when you're coming home, will you?"

"Of course."

"I'm leaving as well," Aela said. "Jorrvaskr needs one of us to be there."

Marius raised his eyebrows. "Dragonborn, are you staying with us?"

"For the moment," He replied. "There are some things for the three of us to discuss. But first I think the two of you should check on Kijjan."

What he really meant, of course, was that the two of them should have a word together. Alone.

Marius wasted no time in limping into the corridor, pulling her in to join him. He placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her passionately.

"You seem different, Listener."

"I feel different," She agreed. "Maybe now that Luven's gone, I've had a rebirth of sorts. A new start."

Marius brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Have you thought about taking a different name? Instead of the one he gave you?"

She hesitated. "I had a name before him," She said softly. "Eilis."

"That's a beautiful name."

Tabby frowned. "But my father gave it to me. He must have. It's a Reach name. And I don't want my name to remind me of my father anymore than I want it to remind me of Luven." She shrugged. "Might as well stick with what I'm used to, for now."

"Very well. Tabby, Eilis, it's all the same to me. What I really want to know is, what happens now?"

"I want to be with you."

"As do I."

"But you can't ask me to give up the Brotherhood."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I know how much they need you. Much more than the Guild needs me."

"But I can't ask you to give up the Guild, either."

Marius hesitated. "The Guild doesn't mean the same thing to me that the Brotherhood does to you. I know how much you love them. How much you love your work." He lowered his voice just a bit. "The Guild is important to me. But I don't live and breathe the Guild."

Tabby stared at him, dumbfounded. "You would give all of this up? For me?"

Marius looked deep into her eyes. "If that's what it took to be with you, I would."

She started to feel dizzy. Somehow, his extreme declaration of devotion made her slightly less attracted to him. It took the mystery out of it, the chase. It felt like at any moment he was going to ask her to marry him. And she had no idea what she would say if that happened.

…On the other hand, the only other romantic experience she had to compare was Astrid, who blatantly kept her at arm's length and ultimately ended up betraying her. So maybe she just didn't have a healthy conceptualization of what a lover was supposed to look like.

His brows furrowed. "You don't look happy."

"It's just…it's just all happening so fast."

"What is?"

"Us. Suddenly things are so serious, and…" She swallowed hard. "I'm only seventeen. I know plenty of Nords get married at that age, but I don't even know how to truly be with someone. To be honest, it kind of scares me. What if I mess it up? What if you end up hating me? What if…"

Marius shushed her, which mildly irritated Tabby. "We'll take things slowly, then. Enjoy each other's company. Learn about each other."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I would like that."

He put a hand on her waist. "Let's check on Kijjan."

She was laid flat on her back in a spare room in the back of the tavern. They could see her chest rise and fall, but she was clearly still unconscious.

Kharjo was slumped in a chair, asleep while still sitting up. A healer that Tabby had never seen before quietly worked on Kijjan. It seemed as if she was actively trying to not wake Kharjo.

As if reading her mind, the healer whispered, "He almost never sleeps. He doesn't really say anything either. Just sits in that chair, and watches me work."

"Will she wake up?" Tabby whispered back.

The healer frowned. "It's too early to tell. She's breathing, and that's a good sign. The fact that she's still unconscious, however, is not so good."

They left the healer to her work, and Kharjo to his sleep, and returned to the tavern. Only the Dragonborn remained at the table. He beckoned the two of them closer.

"The vampire threat has been neutralized. An immense relief to be sure." He paused to sip from his tankard. "But the fate of Tamriel still hangs in the balance. We're no closer to stopping Alduin than we were three months ago. We need help. And I think the two of you have proved yourselves to be the help we need."

Marius and Tabby looked at each other, then back at Azzam. "But…we're no warriors," Tabby stammered. "We'd be useless in a fight against a dragon."

"I'm not looking for warriors. I've got plenty of those at my command. I'm looking for people who can find a way around an impossible problem. And that's you two." Azzam smiled softly. "Besides, Listener, you've already done the Empire two great favors. What's one more?"

Tabby's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Taking care of Luven, and…?"

"Your assassination of the emperor, of course."

She laughed incredulously. "I don't think there's a soul in the Empire who would consider that a favor, Dovahkiin."

"Few realize the true implications of his death. Including yourself, it seems. But think about it. Titus Mede was deeply unpopular. In the eyes of many, he stood helpless as his Empire crumbled around him. But his son was a war hero. Now that he will become Emperor, perhaps he will be able to rally the provinces. Take back Hammerfell. And stand back up to the Thalmor."

"Alright, Dovahkiin. You've caught my attention. What is it that you'd have us do?"

"It's going to be a long road. I'm aware that I'm asking a lot of you, especially as faction leaders. But believe me when I say you will be helping to save hundreds of thousands of lives."

"That didn't tell us a thing about what you want us to do," Marius said bemusedly.

"Our first step is to track down an ancient prophecy. One that could finally reveal the secret to defeating Alduin. From there, the path forward will hopefully reveal itself."

Tabby took a deep breath. "Nazir will throw a fit," She said. "'Putting myself in unnecessary danger' and all of that. But this is for a greater cause. I'm willing to take the risk." She looked at Marius. "Are you?"

Marius ran a hand through his hair. "Why not," He said. "We'll either find honor and glory, or die horrible deaths. What could go wrong?"

Azzam smiled ever so slightly. "Put your affairs in order," He said. "We leave at first light on Morndas."

She might have just gotten herself in way over her head. But at the very least, this saga would be more interesting than sitting around the Dawnstar Sanctuary barking orders.

Of course, if the dragons didn't kill her for taking on this mission, Nazir certainly would.

* * *

That night she slept in Marius's bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Do you think we're making the right choice?" He murmured into her ear. "We could very easily be killed."

"Azzam helped us. We owe him. Besides, just like the vampire army, I happen to have a vested interest in preventing the destruction of our world."

"I suppose you're right," He said. "And I guess it will be a grand adventure. Probably some treasure to be found, too."

"Will you make sure Brynjolf looks after Kijjan?"

"Of course, love. She'll be treated well down here. No matter what happens."

A small pang of guilt hit Tabby's stomach. Kijjan had saved her life, and now she was about to leave her in the care of a bunch of thieves.

She dreamt she was walking through an endless, pitch-black tunnel. As she walked, a voice echoed from all angles:

 _Yet another child has prayed to their Mother. Speak with Grelka, here in Riften. And send another soul into our Dread Father's awaiting arms._

So the following morning, the last day before they were to depart Riften, Tabby donned her full set of armor and slipped out of the Ragged Flagon. She found Grelka at her stall, setting up for the day.

"What are you looking at, freak?" Grelka snapped.

"I believe you wanted to have a word with me," Tabby said cryptically. Perhaps we should go somewhere where we can speak a bit more candidly."

Grelka blinked, seeming to realize who she was speaking with. "You people work fast. Come with me," They ducked into a nearby alley, and Grelka produced a bag of coin from her pocket.

The clients almost always felt the need to provide their entire life story when giving the target. Surly Grelka was no exception. "I'm barely scraping by with my stall these days," She began. "Business is tough, you know? There comes to a point when a woman's got to do what she's got to do. And sometimes that means…taking care of the competition."

Tabby had tuned her out after the first sentence. "Who am I killing?" She asked bluntly.

"The town blacksmith. His name is Balimund."


	30. Chapter 30: The Dragon

_21st of Last Seed, 4E201_

How does one begin to describe the feeling of consuming another's soul?

The soul of Mirmulnir, his very first, knocked him flat on his back. Nothing in their universe could have ever prepared him for the amount of pure energy entering his body. Then, the raw power pulsing through every vein, every tendon.

Next, the whispers. The dragon tongue swirling around him, whispering ancient secrets. It was simply intoxicating.

Finally, the fusing together of two souls. Mirmulnir was a part of him now. He couldn't say exactly how, but he could feel it all the same.

And he could feel this newfound power pumping through his veins. It was a power that was just a little more than human.

And oh, how he craved more.

Even amongst the chaos, every Whiterun guard froze in awe as he uttered his first Shout, an unbridled force surging across the tundra. They stammered among themselves - Was it true? The hero of legends old, standing right here in front of them? And a _Redguard_?

Azzam hadn't a clue what the Nords were carrying on about. It was only mere days he had spent in the province, but even then he knew the sons of Skyrim had their quirks, their folk tales and strange customs.

But what had just happened to him did feel...incomparable. An experience far beyond simple Nord superstition.

Then, another Shout. This one thundering from leagues beyond, far across the mountain peaks standing silently in the distance.

 ** _DOVAHKIIN!_**

* * *

He never had any previous inklings that he was special. Chosen.

He was his parents' only surviving child, born the year before the Great War broke out. Many of his earliest memories were of huddling in pitch darkness and absolute silence in his family's cellar, evading the crossfire of the warring factions aboveground. School was sporadic at best, and ceased completely after the instructor was murdered by roving bandits. His ability to add and subtract still suffered to this day.

But his father insisted that he continued to read, sometimes going without food so that his son could have a new book. He always said that next to a strong sword-arm, being well-read and well-spoken were the most powerful weapons a Redguard could have. When he was very young - too young still to truly understand the world he lived in - he thought that he would grow up to be a poet.

And in truth, the books were an escape - the only escape, it seemed - from a very difficult reality. Every waking moment was devoted to survival. By day, it was dodging the crossfire of the raging battles outside their windows. By night, it was trying desperately to ward off the gnawing hunger pains, the biting wind that cut through the holes in their roof.

Memories of watching civilians cut down in the streets still haunted him. Nobody was looking out for the innocents in that conflict - sometimes, it even seemed that the soldiers would take out their frustrations on whatever peasant was unlucky enough to be standing nearby. He remembered cowering with his schoolmates under piles of rubble, praying to any god that would listen that they didn't attract the attention of the soldiers.

Mostly, he remembered how the streets glistened with blood. So much blood.

His mother and two older brothers were lost in the conflict. He was too young to remember much of them, other than that he always hoped to be a hero, a martyr like them.

But the heroics had to be put on hold. Hammerfell was a violent and chaotic place even after the treaty was signed. Few opportunities for honor and glory existed, and even fewer for any kind of scholarly pursuit.

So he parlayed his sole valuable skill - his raw strength - and sought his fortune as a mercenary for a skooma dealer. It was unpleasant and immoral work, but it kept his belly full and a roof over his sickly father's head.

He had largely accepted his fate. He was not meant to be a hero. He wasn't even meant to be a poet who wrote about others' heroics. He was meant to work, care for his father, and perhaps get married and have children. And perhaps those children, just beginning to emerge from under the shadow of war, would have a slightly better life than he had, and their children a slightly better life than them.

Fate, as it seemed, had other ideas.

His father fell ill, and there wasn't any money for treatment. All Azzam could do was make his father comfortable while he waited to die.

He was not particularly old. But the war had permanently scarred him. He had become a quiet man, one who shook violently at the smallest noise and who couldn't bear Azzam to make any sudden movements. One who saved his wracking sobs for the cover of night, when he thought his son was long asleep.

Perhaps the illness was more of a lack of will to carry on more than anything else.

Yet he still had one last gift for his son. With his last breaths, his father whispered in his ear the words that would change his life forever.

 _You have a sister._

He hadn't even known she existed before then. He was merely an infant when she was kidnapped by bandits, early in the war. But if she was still alive, she was his last living relative. The only bloodkin he had in this world.

Her name was Rayya. And if she was alive, he would find her.

For years thereafter he wandered Hammerfell. Searching for a woman whose face he did not know. Following every false tip and baseless rumor. And when he had overturned every stone in the province, he made his way to Cyrodiil and started all over again. He would search every inch of Tamriel if he had to. Even if it killed him.

Six years passed like they were mere weeks. Azzam was brutally alone. No one in these war-battered lands was watching out for him. No one cared if he lived or died. But he had to carry on all the same.

Eventually, it became clear that if his sister was alive, she was not in Cyrodiil. He found even fewer leads there than in Hammerfell.

But he could not stop. He needed his family. Anything that was left of it. Family was all he had in this world. Power and riches meant nothing to him. But to be alone in this life, with no bloodkin to speak of - that was unbearable.

He was a child of war, a child of a ravaged motherland. Home could no longer be Hammerfell. Home was wherever his family was.

If his sister wasn't in Cyrodiil, it was time to move on. To start the search over, again.

And so he set forth on the northern road to Skyrim.


	31. Chapter 31: The Dread Father

_28th of Sun's Height, 4E 202_

Tabby stared at Grelka in silent horror for a long moment. Then she turned, pulled her cowl to the side, and threw up in the gutter.

Grelka wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Not quite the reaction that I was expecting. You want your gold or not?"

Tabby wanted with every fiber of her being to tell Grelka where she could shove her gold. To bash her face in for even threatening her dearest friend.

But she couldn't. She wasn't Tabby right now. She was the Listener. And the Listener had a business to run.

Grelka practically threw a small bag of coin at her. "Half now, half when he's dead. If you can off his apprentice while you're at it, I'll throw in a little something special for your trouble."

Tabby turned and walked away without another word.

This was what she got for forming normal friendships with normal, good people. She should have known better than to allow herself that luxury. Now she faced an impossible choice.

She could not bring herself to kill Balimund. Or even to contract his death out to another assassin. But Sithis demanded his soul, and she couldn't even begin to imagine the punishment if she did not comply.

She had never liked Grelka. From the considerable time she had spent in Riften, she found her to be loud, disagreeable, and selfish. But she never struck Tabby as the kind of person who would actually perform a Black Sacrament.

And how much competition did Balimund put up, really? He specialized in weapons; Grelka's mainly sold light armor. Her lack of business was solely to blame on her surly demeanor, not on Balimund.

Something seemed off.

A second floor window was open in the Bunkhouse, where Grelka slept at night. Once she was sure no eyes were on her, Tabby dragged a barrel over and shimmied her way inside. It took a bit of trial and error to find Grelka's quarters, but soon she was rifling through the merchant's belongings. There had to be something - anything - that would explain the maddening situation she found herself in.

Finally - she found it. A crumpled note stuffed in the back of a dresser.

 _Grelka,_

 _Below you will find instructions for performing the Black Sacrament. It is imperative that every step be followed to the letter._

 _It is also crucial that this contract not be linked back to me in any way. If anyone walks in on you performing the Sacrament, you and I have never spoken._

 _The target is Balimund. Do not ask why. Do not warn him._

 _Write to me when it is done._

 _\- Maven_

Tabby seethed. But it wasn't Maven Black-Briar she was angry at. It was herself.

For now she remembered their meeting, weeks and weeks ago, when she had been haughty and antagonistic towards Maven. And Maven's last words to her:

"You little brat. You're going to regret this."

If this wasn't a complete waking nightmare, she would have admired Maven's scheming. Waiting until Tabby had completely forgotten about her threat. Putting a hit not on her own life, but forcing her to take the life of someone she cared for deeply. Psychological torture, rather than physical.

She knew what Nazir would say if he were here: You have to kill him. The Dark Brotherhood before all else. This is what happens when you try to befriend civilians.

She knew what Babette would say: He is just a mortal. There will be many others.

And she knew what the Night Mother would say: _Do not defy the will of our Dread Father._

The religiosity of it aside, at the end of the day the Dark Brotherhood was a business. And refusing to fulfill a contract from Maven Black-Briar would be very, very bad for business.

She always knew that some of their targets probably didn't deserve to die. Clients could - and did - contact the Brotherhood out of pettiness or greed. This had never really bothered Tabby. Everyone died at some point. All she did was speed that process along.

Sure, she enjoyed toying with her prey at times, and perhaps that wasn't so noble. But she never considered herself an evil person. She was merely an agent of death, and death was a neutral force. Neither good nor evil.

But to kill a man who had come to trust her, to consider her a friend…that was evil.

Exiting the Bunkhouse, she removed her cowl and quickly strode to Balimund's forge.

Balimund looked up from his grindstone and smiled when she approached, but he quickly sobered when saw the look on her face.

"Balimund," She breathed quietly. "I need to speak to you. Privately."

Without a word, he abandoned the blade he was sharpening and led her into his quarters, locking the door behind him.

They were alone. No witnesses.

"What is it, my friend?"

Tabby took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something about myself. Something unpleasant."

"And what might that be?"

In her head, she bid farewell to Balimund's friendship. Then she forced the words from her lips.

"I'm not a scout."

"Of course you're not. You're an assassin. Dark Brotherhood, I guess."

Tabby's mouth dropped open in shock. Balimund chuckled.

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

"But…how did you figure it out? I thought I was being careful."

"You were. The signs were subtle, but they added up. The armor was the first clue, but I was able to explain that away. Then I started to notice that important people seemed to die soon after you left town. Then the Penitus Oculatus agent who showed up in Riften right after you did, and turned up murdered."

"Most people think we're monsters. You knew this about me, and yet you continued to be my friend?"

"I don't agree with what you do for a living. But I've seen you do good things for this town. Getting Grelka to stop bullying Madesi. Giving alms to the beggars. Bringing me fire salts, and asking nothing in return." Seeing the incredulous look on her face, he continued. "We're Nords, Tabby. And Nords are men. No man is only good or only bad. We simply are."

Her heart ached. Balimund, her blacksmith, her simple-tongued philosopher.

"I'm touched. I truly am. But I'm afraid there's a serious problem."

"Someone has hired you to kill me. Oh, don't look at me like that; I told you. I'm not as dumb as I look. You wouldn't be telling me all this if you weren't going to kill me anyway."

"No, no, Balimund. You've got it all wrong. I'm not going to kill you."

"Do you really have a choice in the matter?"

"I don't know what will happen if I don't kill you. But we're about to find out. Because I'm not doing it."

Balimund exhaled deeply. "Your loyalty is moving. It's also probably very stupid."

"Probably. But we can't worry about that now. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what?"

"From everything. I don't know if the Brotherhood will come after you anyway. Or if Sithis will try and strike you dead. Or if Maven will send one of her own thugs after you."

"Maven Black-Briar, eh? I didn't realize I had gotten on her bad side."

Tabby sighed. "This is all my fault, I'm afraid. I was rude to her, and now she's using you to teach me a lesson."

"What in Oblivion…well, no time for that now I suppose. Wherever you think you can take me where Sithis himself won't find me, I'll follow you."

It was not ideal to take Balimund to the Ratway. The Guild was solidly in Maven's pocket, after all. But it would be even stupider to take him to the Sanctuary, and she couldn't think of anywhere else she could send him. All she could do was pray that Marius's devotion to her outweighed his devotion to Maven Black-Briar.

* * *

Tabby and Balimund stood nervously before the Guildmaster. Pleading for clemency.

Marius groaned loudly, interrupting Tabby's retelling of that fateful meeting.

"You t _hreatened_ Maven Black-Briar?"

"It was a hypothetical! I wasn't _really_ going to bury my knife in her belly!"

"Oh, Tabby…" Marius rubbed his temples. "This makes a complete mess out of our plan to bring the Guild and Brotherhood closer. If the Brotherhood's on her bad side, she'll never approve our petition to work with them."

"That can be dealt with. Later. Can we focus on the issue at hand? Are you really going to sacrifice an innocent to appease a crook? How does that align with your moral code?"

"Don't. _You_ got him into this mess, not me. Any blood spilled will not be on my hands."

This wasn't working. She needed to change tactics.

"Marius, please. For me."

His scowl softened. He appeared to be thinking. Cautiously, Tabby pressed on.

"Maven doesn't have to find out. He's just disappeared off the streets. It'll look like I killed him and disposed of the body. Cleaned up all the blood."

Balimund bowed his head. "I didn't get to say goodbye to Asbjorn."

Marius turned to him. The usual kindness had returned to his eyes. "We can get a letter to him," He said. "And retrieve any personal belongings you'd like from your house."

Balimund nodded. "Thank you. I'd like that," He said. "But what happens now? Am I to stay hidden underground for the rest of my days?"

An idea struck Tabby. "No. Just for awhile, while this all cools down. And while Marius and I help the Dragonborn. After that, I'll come back, and I'll take you to a place where Maven will never find you."

"And where would that be? Akavir?"

"I've acquired a piece of property. A reward from a contract. It's deep in the forests of Falkreath. It's beautiful beyond belief, Balimund. And it even has a forge."

Balimund raised his eyebrows. He considered that for a moment. At last, he spoke.

"Might be nice to get out of the city. Breathe some fresh air. Especially if I'm going to be penned up in this sewer for awhile."

Tabby was hit with a fresh wave of guilt. She could practically hear Nazir berating her as if he were here.

 _This is what happens when you act impulsively. Arrogantly. Childishly. Like I always tell you not to, and like you always do anyway._

And now a good man was suffering for it.

She reached for Balimund's hand, clasping it in her own. She looked him in the eyes, hoping he could see the sincerity in her gaze.

"I am so, so sorry. I promise you, I am going to come back. And I am going to make this right."

Niruin appeared at Marius's side.

"Get our friend settled in here, and see to it that his matters aboveground are taken care of." Marius turned his eyes back to Tabby. "I need to have a word with the Listener."

He walked her to the other end of the Cistern. Marius opened his mouth, but Tabby cut in.

"I know, Marius. I've messed up, big time."

"That's a pretty large understatement. You've put all of us in danger. If Maven finds out he's down here, Balimund isn't the only one getting sent to the Void. The whole Guild would be done for."

"I know, and I'm sorry…"

"And what about yourself? You're openly defying the Night Mother, or Sithis, or whoever passes down these orders. What's going to happen to you?"

Tabby scowled. "You're one to talk. Just yesterday you said you would walk away from the Guild. You were ready to defy Nocturnal, were you not?"

"That was a hypothetical; this is real! This is happening now!" Marius's ears twitched violently. It almost would have been comical, if he weren't so agitated. "Gods, Tabby, what were you _thinking_?"

"I wasn't, okay?! It was months ago. I was still getting the hang of being the Listener. I would never do something like that today!"

"But you just did. When you decided not to kill him."

Tabby scoffed. "You're seriously saying that I should have killed Balimund? You, Mister Honor and Integrity?"

"I'm not saying it would have been the moral thing to do. But it would have been the sensible thing to do. Now you've got to answer to Maven _and_ the Dark Brotherhood. I honestly don't know which is worse."

Tabby shook her head. "I already feel terrible all on my own," she said. "I don't need this from you." She blew past him without another word, storming into the training room.

She drew her bow, honing in on the first dummy she saw. She notched an arrow and let it fly, piercing the dummy's brain. She quickly loaded another arrow, and then another, until all three dummies were expertly impaled.

"I like to mutilate dummies when I'm angry, too. Keeps me from taking it out on actual people."

Tabby whipped around. She hadn't realized there was someone else in the room. But there, leaning against the wall, was Azzam.

"I could hear you and Marius yelling from all the way in here. Sounds like you're in a spot of trouble."

"Dovahkiin, with all due respect…"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to lecture you. In fact, I don't think you did much of anything wrong."

Tabby blinked. "You don't?"

"Well, alright, it was probably unwise to get fresh with Maven Black-Briar. But refusing to bend to a crook's will is something I can respect, even if it wasn't handled so gracefully. And I wouldn't listen to what Marius said about how you should have killed the blacksmith."

"You think so? Even if I'm punished by the Night Mother?"

"I don't know what your Night Mother is," Azzam admitted. "Whether she's a ghost, or a Daedra, or something else entirely. What I do know, is that those otherworldly bodies tend to view mortals as something akin to termites. They toy with us at their whim, reward us when we behave like good pets, but would crush us under their foot without a second thought." Azzam shrugged. "Given the choice between my closest friend, and a pseudo-god who would annihilate me without batting an eye? I'd pick the friend every time."

* * *

Tabby and Marius packed their satchels in terse silence that evening, each not quite ready to apologize. Once they got their journey underway, surely all would be forgiven and forgotten. Or so Tabby hoped.

She posted a letter to Nazir just before going to bed, explaining where she was going, what she had done, and pleading him not to throttle her when she next saw him. Then, it was time to face Marius.

"You can't ignore me forever," She said softly. "I know I made a mistake. I'm trying to make it right."

Marius sighed. "I know you are. I'm not angry, truthfully. I'm worried."

"Worried about what?"

"That you're being pulled in too many directions. Trying to protect too many people. At some point, don't you think you have to decide what you stand for?"

Tabby huffed. "I know what I stand for."

"Do you? Are you a blacksmith's friend? A thief's lover? A Dragonborn's lackey? Or are you the Listener?"

* * *

They slept side by side again that night, despite their earlier spats. Come morning, life was about to get exceedingly more interesting.

She dreamt of nothing. She was enveloped in silence. Everything around her was pure darkness. Yet, somehow she felt cold. So very cold. And, seeping into her bones slowly but excruciatingly, unbridled dread.

Then, the most awful noise she'd ever heard split her eardrums in two. Like shrieking metal, but infinitely louder and more wrenching. And in the din came to her words, but not in her Mother's voice. Rather, in the voice of terror itself:

 _Weep, mortal. For in your defiance you have invoked the Wrath of Sithis._


	32. Chapter 32: The Winding Road

Tabby hunkered down in the Ragged Flagon for an early breakfast, hoping fruitlessly that no one would try to talk to her. How these thieves could be already up to their usual antics and banter at such an obscene hour was beyond her.

"Someone's got a grouchy look on their face. Not a morning person, eh?"

"Didn't sleep well," Tabby muttered at Brynjolf from across the table, shoving a piece of stale bread in her mouth.

It was the truth. She had lain awake for hours, staring at the ceiling as Marius mumbled in his sleep. Usually when she couldn't sleep it meant that her mind was racing, but this time it was as almost as if she was in shock. Her brain was frozen.

She knew one thing for sure - she was in big, big trouble. But it was hard to grasp exactly what that meant. Would Sithis strike her dead? Let her live, but bring her unimaginable pain and suffering? Make her watch, powerless to help as all her loved ones were struck dead?

And how in Oblivion did one absolve themselves of the wrath of Sithis?

Brynjolf slid a stamina potion her way. "Hey, snap out of it. And drink up," He said. "This is not a journey you want to start off on a bad note."

It was at least an hour before sunrise, but most of the Guild had roused themselves to see their leader off. Marius was smiling, playing the role of plucky hero, but under his breath he muttered to Tabby:

"Can't believe we're being made to walk to the other end of the province."

Marius and Tabby had pushed Azzam to hire a carriage, but the Dragonborn insisted on walking. He was convinced the Thalmor were tracking him, and it was much more difficult to find three people on foot than an entire carriage. This was true - but it also more than doubled their travel time.

Tabby shrugged at Marius. "I'm not in any particular hurry to get back to the Sanctuary."

"Why's that? Trying to delay your scolding from Nazir?"

"Something like that." She wasn't ready to tell him about her nightmare - it would either worry him, or earn her another lecture. And either way, it was too much for her to deal with just now.

The forests surrounding Riften were the warmest pocket of Skyrim, and this particular morning was simply sublime. Tabby put her cowl down to feel the gentle breeze dance across her skin and the sun warm her cheeks. She wanted to enjoy it while she could - once they reached the mountain trail separating the Rift from Whiterun Hold, it was going to be a much different story.

Indeed, this was a very pleasant start to their journey. It was almost as if they were on a leisurely morning stroll, rather than a quest to conquer the World Eater. It was imperative that she remember what she was here for. It was imperative that she watch the skies.

But it wasn't long before she became distracted again. Her thoughts now turned to Balimund. He had been part of the crowd that had gathered to see them off, but she had been disappointed when he hadn't actually spoken to Tabby. She wondered if he was angry with her - she certainly couldn't blame him if he was. And if he was, could she ever earn his forgiveness?

The other issue at hand was that there seemed to hang in the air some lingering tension between her and Marius. She got the feeling he was still displeased with her. And she resented that a little.

She had dug herself into a bit of a hole, she knew that much - but he needed to trust that she would dig herself out.

"You're awfully quiet, Listener," Azzam said. "Something troubling you already?"

"Not a thing," Tabby lied. "Just enjoying the scen…"

Mid-sentence, her boot got caught in a small pothole. She stubbed her toe good and hard, and then the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the ground. Instinctually, her hands reached out to break the fall. Her palms stung on impact even through her gloves, but they had spared her from a third head injury in almost as many months.

For a moment Tabby lay still, face-down on the ground in shock. She couldn't remember the last time she had _tripped and fallen_.

Marius was trying his best to stifle a laugh. "I thought assassins were supposed to be graceful."

Tabby's first instinct was to shoot him a glare, but instead she forced a good-natured chuckle as she pulled herself to her feet. Marius extended a hand to help her, then made a big show of brushing the dust off her armor.

She laughed again. But in truth, she was a little embarrassed, and more than a little unnerved.

She knew she should chalk it up to being lost in thought and not paying attention to where she was stepping. But for some reason, it was still eating at her.

She _never_ fell.

* * *

It was too late in the day to attempt to cross the mountain pass. Tabby, Azzam and Marius instead detoured to Ivarstead for a well-deserved round of meads.

"Have either of you been here before?" Azzam asked.

"I have," Tabby said. "On one of my very first contracts. Gods, that feels like eras ago." She tilted her head nearly all the way back to glimpse the peak of the Throat of the World. The last time she had stood in its shadow, she only knew of the Night Mother from legend. Astrid was still alive. As was Luven.

"You've been up to the top, haven't you?" She asked Azzam.

"Several times," He said. "The climb doesn't get any easier, I can tell you that."

"But what's it like all the way up there?"

"Freezing. At least for a Redguard."

Tabby rolled her eyes, earning a small chuckle from Azzam.

"In all seriousness? Awe-inspiring. It's almost as if you're looking over all of Tamriel."

The inn's mead was lukewarm and the stew bland, but it more than satiated the trio after a full day of walking. Tabby listened, amused, as Marius tried and failed to convince Azzam to let him steal a few horses to carry them the rest of the way.

"What's the point of bringing a thief along if you won't make use of his services?" Marius groaned when Azzam vetoed his proposition.

"Patience, my friend. You'll see some action soon."

Marius opened his mouth to deliver a quip that would never be heard, because at that moment Tabby swallowed wrong and lodged something in her throat.

Whatever it was, it was rock solid and firmly stuck. She began coughing violently, but it didn't even seem to budge. Now she could barely even draw a breath.

Her hands clutched her throat, and finally her two companions seemed to realize she was actually choking. Azzam leapt from his chair, and without hesitation used the heel of his hand to deal three powerful - and painful- blows between her shoulder blades.

On the third, Tabby retched grotesquely as the object was finally expelled out of her airway and onto the table. As Tabby struggled to regain her breath, Marius and Azzam stared down at the offending object in bewilderment.

Finally, Marius spoke:

"Is that…is that _chaurus chitin_?!"

"I…don't care…what it was," Tabby wheezed. "Just as long…as it's out of my throat."

"But how did a piece of chaurus chitin find its way into your potato soup at a sleepy little inn?" Azzam wondered. "It's bizarre. You're welcome for saving your life, by the way."

"Thank you…even though it fucking hurt."

"You've had some bad luck of late," Marius commented. "Best get on to bed before some other misfortune befalls you."

Hesitantly, Tabby reached out and picked up the object. Marius was right - the shape and texture was unmistakably that of chitin. Even thought it did seem improbable that an innkeeper in plain Ivarstead, far-flung from any Chaurus hive, could have gotten their hands on the valuable material.

Bizarre indeed.

* * *

Later that night, long after Marius and Azzam had drifted off, Tabby rose from her bed and stole outside. It was already noticeably colder here than in Riften, but to her the brisk night air was refreshing.

It was amazing how many more stars you could see here than in Riften. Together with the moons looming large over the Throat of the World, the sight really was - what had Azzam said? Awe-inspiring.

And it was quiet, in the best kind of way. The villagers were asleep for the night, and no terrors lurked in the shadows. Tabby would probably never describe her life as peaceful, but this was probably the closest she would get.

So enraptured was she by the starlight that she didn't notice the figure approaching her until it was mere feet away. It was human-like, but transparent. And emitting a bluish glow.

And it had a gaping hole in its chest where its heart should have been.

" _Why_?" It wailed. " _Why did you do this to me_?"

Tabby staggered to her feet, mouth gaping open in horror. She backed away, but it lunged toward her with inhuman speed.

As its excruciatingly cold hands wrapped around her throat, she met its vacant eyes. It was Narfi, the beggar she had killed on one of her very first contracts.

* * *

Balimund was an honest man. He never overcharged his customers, never cut corners on his goods. He gave alms at the temple. He even adopted from the orphanage, for Mara's sake.

He was an honest man. And that meant that he hated the Thieves Guild with every inch of his soul.

So now that he found himself taking up residence in their sewer, he felt…unsettled. To say the very least.

He was rather angry with Tabby.. He knew she was trying to fix her mistakes, but she couldn't undo her foolishness. And that foolishness had totally uprooted his life. And, on top of everything else, she left him here alone with a bunch of thugs, with only vague promises to return sometime soon.

To be fair, the Guildmaster actually wasn't a terrible host. He provided Balimund food and a warm bed, and settled his matters aboveground when he certainly didn't need to. The rest of the thieves mostly regarded him with puzzled amusement, or just ignored him completely.

But he was curious about one thing. And that was the armored Khajiit keeping a constant watch over one of his sleeping kin. Despite the stereotypes about their kind, Balimund had an inkling that the cats didn't belong in the Ratway, either.

Just a few hours after Tabby left, a yowl erupted from the Khajiit's quarters. Intrigued, Balimund went to investigate.

The sleeping Khajiit was awake. The one keeping watch was nearly beside himself with joy - the healer all but had to physically restrain him from leaping on his companion.

The pair enthusiastically chattered to each other in a language Balimund didn't understand. Then, the one who had been sleeping turned to look at him.

"You," She purred. "You are a Nord. But not a warrior type, are you?"

Balimund stuttered. "N-no. I'm a blacksmith."

"Ah, yes. One who shapes the steel for others to swing. How noble. And just how does such a noble man find himself cavorting with assassins, thieves, and Khajiit?"

Balimund scratched his head. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

"And are you content to stay here in the mouse-hole while you figure it out?"

He looked at her, startled. "What are you suggesting?"

"This one is Kijjan. That one calls himself Kharjo," She said, nodding at her companion. "We have an important job to do for an important Nord. Perhaps you would join us."

"Me? Why me?"

"It may be helpful to have a Nord by our side as we journey your homelands," Kijjan said. "Perhaps your kin would take a little more kindly to us."

"And where would be going?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Elsewhere."

Or did she say Elsweyr?

In all his life, the farthest Balimund had ever traveled was Ivarstead. He was perfectly content to live out the rest of his days in the Rift, free from adventure, intrigue and danger. Then all at once, he was faced with the prospect of moving clear across the province to Tabby's Falkreath abode. And now, two Khajiit were asking him to wander Skyrim in the name of an "important job."

They offered almost no details. They gave him no reason to trust him. And as for him - he was a blacksmith. Nothing more, and nothing less. The last thing he ever expected for himself was to get caught up in something like this.

And yet, he heard himself say the words:

"Well, I'm not getting any younger down here."

Kijjan pressed her paws together, her tail swishing eagerly.

"We depart at midnight."


End file.
